Winter in My Heart
by gameofboners
Summary: Fianna Bua, Lady of House Bua, never thought that she'd be riding off to war for the liege lord she hadn't even met. But oaths are oaths, the Buas have fought alongside the Starks for centuries and she wasn't about to be hailed an oath breaker. So with her armour, long sword and some 900 men in tow, she sets off to war to avenge the death of Ned Stark. (Robb/OC)
1. Prologue

_Song for the book: Winter in My Heart by Vast_

 _Cillian_

Cillian Bua never thought that of all the endless possibilities for death to finally get its clutch on him, it would be an illness in the end that would catch him.

He was a strong man, a warrior through and through. He was tall and bulky as most Northern Lords were. He resented deeply that he would not die on the battlefield, but instead in his bed trembling with pain from an illness that served to be the only aggressor he could never take down or plan a clever battle strategy against.

His days were numbered, and Fianna had begged for him to stay with her to live out his last days together. But this visit was absolutely necessary. He felt a tinge of regret remembering his only daughter's expression when he told her she wouldn't be joining him on his visit.

 _"There must always be a Bua in Baelfort."_

He suddenly found he wished he had brought her. Tiernan could have looked after their lands, he was a nephew of Cillian's, the son of his sister. Therefore he didn't bear the Bua name, but he lived at Baelfort none the less. His sister had been foolish enough to marry a lowborn man out of feelings of the heart, he had no ancestral lands to speak of therefore the family stayed at Baelfort. He was thankful for it in the end however, he didn't know how he would have been able to raise Fianna without their help.

He had resorted to travelling in his carriage on the last few legs of the journey to Winterfell, something he was deeply embarrassed of. But the cool Northern air had been far too harsh on his ill chest, his muscles too painful to hold onto a horse for hours on end.

He braced himself as the door to his carriage opened, finally they were at their destination. He bundled his furs tighter against him, sniffed quickly and hoped the signs of his illness weren't as obvious as they felt.

He was greeted by the sight of the Stark family, all aligned by order of age and awaiting his step forward patiently. A grim smile turned up Cillian's lips as he made eye contact with his liege lord.

Lord Eddard Stark had been his comrade and friend since Robert's Rebellion. The two were mere young men at the time, completely naked to the harsh realities of war and had no love for each other. But as they fought side by side, a real friendship developed that's stayed true to this day.

"My Lord," Cillian greeted which Eddard responded to with a shake of his head, a laugh and a clap on his back.

"Cillian Rua being formal to his liege lord? I never thought I'd see the day come." Ned teased, his eyebrows furrowed when Cillian could only smile slightly in response, which looked more of a grimace than a smile.

"Cat, you look well, my lady." He said to Ned's wife as she stood tall by his side, taking her hand gently and hoping she didn't notice the slight tremble in his own.

Ned led Cillian to his solar, he eyed his friend carefully. It was obvious the man had lost much of his muscle mass, his face was drawn in and his eyes bulged out. He looked a shadow of the man he used to be.

"As much as I enjoy the company, I have to ask, why have you come to Winterfell?" Ned began, getting straight to it, "Its not often I've seen your face, I haven't even seen that daughter of yours since she was about ten. Although I've heard enough stories I feel like I know her well."

"To get right to it, my lord, I'm dying." Cillian said casually, lifting his palms in the air as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Ned's expression fell, his heart sinking in his chest. He was at a loss for words, he once saw Cillian as another brother. Not as close as Robert, but there was a definite bond there.

"For certain?" He managed to ask after a moment's pause, leaning forward in his desk, "You're not near elderly."

"I've seen several maesters, my friend. They assured me that whatever it is I have, it's going to be the death of me. I grow weaker by the day." Cillian nodded solemnly, his gaze falling from Ned's face to the wood of the desk. He leaned back in his chair, a grave expression on his face.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"There is, my lord," he began, leaning forward again and clasping his hands together, interlocking his fingers, "As you well know, my dear wife died birthing Fianna. She's my only heir, I fathered no bastards. By law, Baelfort and my lands will go to my nephew Tiernan. However I must plead with you to ensure my lands go to Fianna. I will not strip her of what she was born to have because she is a woman."

Ned nodded his head once, "Consider it done, old friend."

"There's another. When I'm gone, which will be soon I suspect, I'm entrusting you to find a suitable marriage for Fianna. See to it that she finds a husband who will look after her and honour her. Fianna is a proud girl, almost a woman grown now. She is far too strong willed and outspoken to be tied to a less than honourable man. No matter how highborn he may be."

"I swear to you, my Lord. I will see to it she finds a suitable match," Ned paused for a second, mulling his thoughts over before he shared them, "My eldest boy, Robb, he's not been betrothed as of yet. He's around your daughter's age, perhaps a year older. I've raised him well, he would honour her."

"You are too kind, my lord. I consent to the union, if you will it. All I ask is that she may be given some time before she is to be married, perhaps it best to keep it secret for now. She is already wracked with grief over my condition." In truth, Cillian was hoping Eddard would offer his son. The two were close in age, and while House Bua was not as high in ranking as the Umbers or the Boltons, they were highborn enough for the match to make sense. It was a great honour that Lord Stark could bestow to Cillian, to wed his child with hers and make his daughter Lady of Winterfell, wife to the Warden of the North.

The match would prove profitable for the Starks as well, with Fianna being Lady of Baelfort, the Starks would have possession over two great Northern households.

Fianna herself was beautiful, men told stories of her throughout the North. Her wild, unruly brown curls and her smile, she looked every bit a Northerner and her quick wit meant she had multiple matches being offered already.

"Very well, my lord." Ned fetched a quill and paper before he began to write the deed that would bind their two houses forever.

The two fathers signed it willingly, and later that day they prayed in the Godswood. Ned prayed for Robb's well being and for him to treat his wife kindly and justly, while Cillian prayed his daughter wouldn't end his life before the illness did by doing the one thing that would make her hate him, even if just for a moment.

No matter how she'd react, he knew this was the right decision. The Starks were one of the most powerful families in Westeros, Fianna would be well protected after he is gone and her children would rule Winterfell and Baelfort both.

Above all, he knew she'd be safe.

* * *

Cillian Bua accompanied Ned to the trial the next day, he was to leave as soon as he returned to Winterfell and wanted to spend as much time as he could with his liege lord and old friend while he still could.

A deserter of the Night's Watch was the subject of today's trial. Cillian sat on his horse behind his liege Lord and facing the three Stark children that accompanied them. He eyed Robb in particular very carefully. He cursed himself for suggesting that neither son nor daughter be told of the betrothal yet, to give Fianna time to grieve after his death. He wished desperately for the chance to threaten the life out of the Stark boy. He may have been dying, but Cillian Bua would put the fear of the gods into any man.

His attention snatched back to the deserter as he mumbled incoherently, Cillian's eyebrows furrowed as he heard the term "white walkers" used. The man seemed to grab a hold of himself as Lord Eddard faced him.

"I know I broke my oath. And I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them. But I saw what I saw. I saw the White Walkers. People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them I'm no coward. Tell them I'm sorry." Ned nodded in response to the deserter's last words. It was obvious gibberish from a mad man, white walkers were a fable told by whet nurses to scare babes. Yet even so, the words set a chill in his spine.

The deserter is positioned over the block, the glint of the Valerian steel Ice consists of catches Cillian's eye as Ned removes the long sword from his scabbard.

Eddard recites King Robert's titles, finally sentencing the man to die and lifts his sword in the air. Cillian's eyes travel back to the eldest Stark boy. As Ned's sword cuts the deserter's head clean off, the boy doesn't even flinch.

Good, he thought. A craven won't do for his Fianna.

Cillian had been trotting on his horse alongside Ned, discussing war stories before his hand reached up to clutch his side in pain. He let out a low groan as Ned looked over worryingly.

"Are you in pain, Cillian?" He asks to which Cillian shakes his head stubbornly.

"Nothing the love of a good woman wouldn't be able to soothe." He laughs off, Ned's expression creases with concern but before he could say more, the two men are distracted by the party ahead of them stopping in the middle of the road.

A lone deer lays on the ground, completely ravaged to the death.

"What is it?"

"A mountain lion?"

"There are no mountain lions in these woods." Ned stops his bastard and his ward's questions. The sound of yapping grabs everyone's attention as their heads swivel to the source of the noise.

Cillian holds in a breath as he climbs down off his horse, pushing aside the pain as he approaches the small animal.

A pup, no more than two months old barks at the party, almost as if trying to get their attention.

"Gods be damned.." Cillian begins, reaching down and lifting the pup by the scruff of its neck to inspect closer, "it's a wolfhound."

"How could that be? Wolfhounds never stray from the woods beside the Long Lake, that's why they're your family sigil isn't it, my Lord?" The reasoning voice of Ser Rodrick Cassel cuts in. Cillian nods his head, setting the pup down in confusion before it shoots off, barking wildly again.

The party follow after the pup until he stops at a great mound of fur laying on the forest floor.

"That's what's got it so freaked. It's found a freak." Theon calls to the party behind him, being first to arrive.

"No, it's a direwolf." Ned states gravely, catching Cillian's eye as the two share a look, "Tough old beast." Ned removes the antlers embedded in its neck.

"There are no direwolves south of the wall, and there shouldn't be any wolfhounds this far from Long Lake." The eldest Stark boy cuts in.

"Now there are five," Ned's bastard son Jon calls before starting to lift direwolf pups from under the belly of their mother.

As Theon Greyjoy unsheathes a knife to kill the pup Bran Stark was holding, the little wolfhound begins to growl lowly. He steps forward menacingly, almost as if it were protecting the direwolf pups. Despite only being a pup, it still made Theon falter.

The wolfhound didn't back off of Theon until Ned agreed to let each of the Stark children foster a direwolf pup, yet Cillian wasn't listening. He was absolutely fascinated by the wolfhound at his feet. A lone wolfhound far from home. For a split second, he likened the pup to that of his daughter. A wolfhound, that would be all alone when he perishes.

He decided at that moment to keep the pup to take home to his daughter, hopefully he would act as a sort of comfort for her after Cillian's passing. Or at the very least, protect her.

Wolfhounds were the tallest dog breed known to man. They were known for their hunting skills and even more so for their guarding. The wolfhound was chosen as the Bua family sigil as the Buas considered themselves to be loyal and fierce warriors. As well as this, Baelfort, which was located next to Long Lake, had woods filled with wolfhounds.

He had never considered taking one as a pet until now. It was almost as if it were a sign from the Gods.

* * *

The journey home was agony for Cillian. He had been only a day from Baelfort when the illness had engulfed him.

He lay down flat in his carriage, sweating profusely from a fever and eyes blurring. The pain that engulfed his entire body made him look forward to the end. It was a terrifying thought, that if he closed his eyes now he wouldn't wake up again.

But he had to. He had to last one more day, to say goodbye to Fianna. To tell her he loved her and tried to look out for her.

He narrows his eyes as a figure appears to hunch over him, desperately trying to get his eyes to focus.

"Don't worry, my sweet. I am here."

His heart started racing, he hadn't heard the voice in almost 17 years. There was no way possible she was here now, in his carriage in the dead of night unless he was already dead.

"Miriam?" He choked out, his eyes filling with tears - of pain and of heartache.

"Yes, my love. I'm here, don't stress yourself." His vision focused suddenly and he could see her then, she hadn't aged a day since he seen her last, on the birthing bed giving him his heir.

She looked so much like Fianna, there was little of Cillian in Fianna's appearance at all - save for her nose and wide smile. The rest was all Miriam.

"How- how are you here?"

"It's time, my love. Come back to me." She reached out and placed her hand against his dampened cheek, he could feel it.

"I-I can't. Fianna needs me."

"Fianna's story begins now, my sweet. On this night. You can let go." Her voice started to drift out as he did, his eyes starting to roll back into his head as he fought desperately against it.

The last thing Cillian Bua ever felt was the soft, icy lips of his deceased wife against his forehead.

And then it was over.

* * *

 **So here we go!**

 **I've been toying with the idea of a Robb/Oc fic for a while, and intended to do Robb/secret Targaryen fic but I got this idea of a Northern household and I couldn't just not write this after the ideas my brain spat out.**

 **For a bit of background, I feel certain aspects of the Game of Thrones books were inspired by, if not eerily similar to Ancient Ireland. I myself, am Irish. I came up with the idea of having a Northern family inspired by Ireland before it was colonised, in particular the Irish language.**

 **The wolfhound used as the Bua family sigil is an Irish wolfhound. Bua, Fianna and Chroí(spoiler: the wolfhound will be called this) are Irish words.**

 **Bua: pronounced "boo-ah", means victory.**

 **Fianna: pronounced "fee-ina", the name given to a warrior band in Irish mythology.**

 **Chroí: pronounced "cree" means heart.**

 **So yeah, I hope you enjoy the book and that I can live up to my own expectations I've set for myself!**


	2. (I) Rallying the Pack

_Song: Way Down We Go by Kaleo_

"Chroi!" The lady of Baelfort's voice cut across the open square. A few heads turned to look up at the commotion, and quickly looked away noticing it was their Lady who was causing it.

Fianna's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment as she finally caught up to her dog. Chroi was 8 months old now, and she was doing a terrible job of teaching the pup obedience.

Her kennel masters had offered time and time again to train the wolfhound, but she had refused. The dog was a welcome distraction in recent times and she found comfort in him, no matter how unruly he could be.

He had grown so much since she had first laid eyes on him. Her father's last gift to her, not counting the promise of keeping her birthright and ruling as Lady of Baelfort.

She remembered it vividly, the night she was gifted with him. She awoke in the middle of the night to the unmistakable sound of horses outside, she rushed downstairs in her bedclothes with not a care in the world and flew outside to greet the carriage.

Yet it was not her father she was to greet. One of his men had approached her with a grave look on her face and it was at that point she knew.

He was dead.

She had been in a daze as it was explained to her, only hearing small tidbits of it. He had died on his travels back to Baelfort. They had kept his body in the carriage, to preserve it so they could bury him here - where he belonged.

After the servants had pleaded with her endlessly to return to her chambers and rest, to which she responded to with violence if they dared touch her - it was then another of the Bua men approached her. A small bundle in his arms. Despite the grief she was submerged in and the tears that blurred her vision, she could make out the shape of a small dog, or was it a wolf?

The wolfhound was dark grey, the colour varied in hue throughout his fur and his underneath was white. His floppy ears and large dark eyes drew her in immediately.

She could only nod her head as it was explained to her that Cillian wished her to have him, that he felt they belonged together before she  
scooped the bundle in her arms and finally returned to her chambers to rest - the wolfhound in arm.

She lay all that night crying as her new pup desperately tried to soothe her sobs by licking her face.

Tensions had been high at Baelfort for the last week. Ever since that damned Stark boy had called upon his banners, Fianna was desperately packing belongings and calling upon her men.

She was Lady of Baelfort after all, and she was well trained for battle - her father had ensured that. No Bua woman ever grew up without learning how to skilfully handle a sword, save for the wives who married into the family.

She had her furs practically engulfing her body, her long, brown, curly hair was back in a braid that reached the middle of her back and she looked every bit a warrior with her family sword - Wolfsbane, at her hip.

Her and her men were almost ready to travel for Winterfell, yet her pup decided today was the day to act out.

"You stop that right now! I will gladly leave you here and the gods know when I will be back for you, if I come back at all!" She scolded the dog sternly as he sat back on his haunches. His ears flattened into his head, almost as if he could understand her. Sometimes she was sure he could.

Chroi stood and walked to Fianna's hand, licking it gently. Fianna couldn't stop a smile spreading on her lips as she patted the wolfhound's head and clicked her tongue for him to follow her to her chambers. She was setting her armour into her trunk when Tiernan had burst into her chambers, uninvited.

"Tiernan! Where are your manners, you can't burst into a lady's chambers without knocking!" Fianna shouted, her expression twisted in annoyance yet they both knew it was the stress getting to her.

"Well by the Gods Fianna, this might be the last day I see you alive! I just wanted to see you before you rode off!" He shouted back sarcastically to which she rolled her eyes to.

"If the gods were merciful they'd see to it I wouldn't have to see you again," she teased before stepping towards her cousin and lifting her arms in the air, "Go on then, bring it in."

He stepped forward and hugged her tightly, the two had always been close. More like siblings than cousins with Tiernan being two years older than Fianna.

"I still think I should go in your stead, war is no place for a lady." He mumbled as he pulled away from her.

"You and I both know I'm the better fighter of the two of us, nonetheless I am the Lord of Baelfort. If war is no place for a Lady, surely it is the place for a Lord." Fianna argued back, a rush of annoyance flooded her. She abhorred when people doubted her skills as a fighter because she was a woman.

She was a Bua. Warrior was in her blood.

"What is it your father always said? There must always be a Bua in Baelfort?" Fianna looked down at the mention of her father, the subject still sore for her. She gathered herself in a moment before looking up with a proud smile.

"There will be. You will rule as Lord of Baelfort in my absence. I'm trusting you with this, Tiernan. You may not bear the name Bua, but my blood runs through your veins. There's no one else I'd trust to rule here." She placed her hands on his biceps, her eyes watering noting the look of sheer thankfulness on his face.

"Fianna... I-"

"Don't say anything."

"Alright, then. Must you take that dog with you, though? What good will he be in a war?" Tiernan nodded his head towards the wolfhound laying on Fianna's bed.

"Are you kidding? He's a wolfhound. They're hunters and guard dogs. Besides, I couldn't part with him either way." She smiled ruefully, turning to shut her trunk of items closed.

"So this is it? Little Fianna is away to war?" She turned to her cousin and nodded solemnly.

"This is it. Pray for me, I beg you. I'll bloody need it." She raised her eyebrows causing him to let out a laugh, wrapping his arm around her again and squeezing her in a bone-crushing hug.

* * *

"Are you nervous, my lady?" Ser Mick's voice sounded next to her, lowly to avoid embarrassing the girl. They had been travelling for a few days now and were due to arrive at Winterfell soon.

Fianna wasn't accustomed to travelling by horse, she absolutely refused to ride in a carriage since she was a child. But the last trip she had made had been to the Umbers when she was all but 14. Her ability to ride all day clearly had left her, her thighs ached terribly.

"In truth, I am. I've never even been to Winterfell, nor even met Lord Stark's son. He never visited Baelfort. We're not riding to see the castle walls, Ser Mick. We're riding for war." She said grimly, although she couldn't deny the knot in her stomach. A knot of pure excitement.

Fianna had heard all the war stories from her father as a child and secretly wished she had been a part of it all. To fight for a cause. She was never going to be a typical lady, laying down for her husband to impregnate and then focusing on raising that child. She wanted to stretch her legs, she wanted songs to be written about her - the Lady of Baelfort, a female warrior who fought with men.

"Don't worry my lady, these men behind us, they respect you so they do. They'll follow you into any battle, they've known you since you were a babe and they know how honourable your father was. Whatever happens, these men are here for you. Not for any Stark boy." She looked to him, her eyes glistening with gratitude as she nodded her head once, a soft smile on her lips that rarely appeared on Fianna Bua's lips at all as of late.

* * *

To say that Fianna was pissed off was an understatement, she was sure her face had to be as red as the Lannister sigil by the amount of anger fuelling through her.

She had made the mistake of arriving at Winterfell the same time as the Karstark party. Immediately, the young lord Robb Stark had requested to see Lord Karstark. More than likely to express his gratitude for the 5000 men he had brought with him.

Fianna had brought a measly 900. They weren't a large house by any means, but she deserved respect none the less. The respect an Umber or a Karstark or a Glover would receive.

The evening was falling now, the feast was about to start and Fianna could care less. She was known for her stubbornness, as many Northerners were. If Robb Stark didn't see it fit to greet her party, she didn't see it fit to arrive on time to the feasts.

She was currently trailing through the castle grounds, whistling loudly and calling for her wolfhound who had unsurprisingly run off again.

She stopped in her step when she heard a low, guttural growl from around the corner. Recognising it as Chroi's, she darted forward to find a slightly terrifying sight.

Chroi was growling wildly, his back was stiff and his teeth bared. To any mere person he'd look terrifying but what he was growling at was perhaps much more so.

A wolf, not a wolfhound, was in a stand off with Chroi. It was covered in fur in variations of grey, much like Chroi. It was already larger than the average wolf, and had a few inches on Chroi. But she could tell this was a pup, he hadn't even begun to reach his maximum size. Because it was a direwolf.

"Chroi," she called nervously, clicking her tongue to get him to return to her. The dog refused, too busy growling at its opponent.

Instead the direwolf turned his head to her, growling at her instead and beginning to stalk toward her slowly, menacingly.

Chroi reacted immediately, snapping his jaws in warning.

Fianna was frozen with fear, she heard the stories of direwolves when she was little. She knew they were ferocious beasts, but they were beyond the wall. Far from her.

She wasn't entirely sure Chroi could even save her here.

"Grey Wind, to me." A deep voice called out, the direwolf immediately backed off, growling once more to which Chroi returned. She kept her gaze on the wolf until it returned to its master, her eyes flitting up to see his face.

He was not a man she recognised, a dark head of curly hair sat atop his head. He was tall, and about her age if not slightly older. He stood with a vigilance that suggested he was a Highborn. But at this point, Fianna was beyond the point of caring.

"You should have that thing fucking chained up!" Fianna couldn't help herself shouting, her chest rising and falling as the adrenaline still rushed through her body.

"And what of that mutt of yours? He hardly looks safe." She was surprised when the man bit back. Her jaw falling slack.

"He's a trained wolfhound, I'll have you know. The best of all dog breeds, and he'll attack that beast of yours should he lunge at me." She was even more shocked when he actually let out a laugh.

"And what? What does a dog have on a direwolf?" He said in a teasing tone.

"I'm sure your lady wife would be more comfortable letting your babes around a wolfhound than a bloody ferocious direwolf!" She began to shout, her anger reaching the tipping point for today.

"I don't have a lady wife, yet. And judging by your manner I would say that you're unmarried yourself!"

"That hardly surprises me. Why would I want a pigheaded husband when I'm Lady of Baelfort? To bring ruin to my house? I don't think so!" She started to step towards him, thankful that the square was empty. She didn't want word of her and a Northerner fighting at Winterfell to reach Lord Stark. She was trying to prove herself, after all.

"Keep talking, little girl. By the looks of things you'll last an hour in battle. At most. Maybe then you'll wish you had a husband to protect you!" He threw back in a cold tone, before stalking towards the entrance to the main hall where the feast was being held.

Desperate to have the last word, she shouted back, "If he's anything like you I'd rather die in battle!"

But he closed the door behind him, not listening to her rants any longer and taking that direwolf with him.

She took a whole five minutes to calm down before she decided to enter the hall, bringing Chroi for moral support. Her nerves were shot with anxiety as she stepped inside. Thankfully, the crowds were loud and the noise of the door opening was drowned out.

She looked around for an empty seat and spotted one in the table next to what she supposed was the head table, judging by the fact she could see Lord Glover and Lord Umber in her peripheral vision.

She sat down at a free chair and let Chroi come under the table, he lay on his stomach to wait for his master to leave.

"Woah! That's the biggest dog I've ever seen!" A small boy sitting across the table from her called out, catching the attention of a few Lords.

"He's a wolfhound, he's the biggest of all dog breeds." She said politely back to the small boy. He was rather young to be riding for war, perhaps he was a Lord's son. Or his father had died and he was the new Lord.

"It's nothing on my direwolf though. But it's still impressive." She lifted her head at the mention of direwolf, how many Northerners suddenly came into possession of a direwolf?

"Wait, who are you, my lord?" She asked, fearing the answer all of a sudden.

"Ah, Lady of Baelfort. Nice of you to join the feast." A familiar voice called out, Fianna's head snapped up fast to see the arrogant prick from outside sitting at the head of the highborn Lord's table. Her expression froze in shock.

Lord Stark, she presumed.

She had only been able to nod her head in greeting when she finally identified her liege lord.

Her heart was thumping as she stared at her plate for a long time after, refusing to look towards the Lord. She felt humiliated to the point she could have cried right there, in front of all her fellow Northern Lords.

Fianna came to this war with one objective in mind, to gain respect. She had heard the whispers throughout the kingdom, of the Northern girl only but seventeen years who was now the lady of her house.

Maege Mormont was a fierce woman who commanded respect, Fianna Bua was to many, a mere child sitting in her father's chair.

She came to this war well aware of her skill set and her strategic mind. Her father, Cillian, had a commander's mind. It was well known his battle strategies had probably been behind Robert's success in the rebellion. Since Fianna's youth, he had tried desperately to teach his only heir his tactics and sharp mind.

She had been here not even a day and already she had shown her quick temper, and to her liege Lord no less. Robb Stark was a boy himself, not much older than Fianna. He himself had much to prove, yet nowhere near as much as Fianna. He was a man at the end of the day, and unless Fianna suddenly sprouted a cock and balls, she had to work extra hard to gain respect.

Fianna didn't lift her head again from her plate until she heard the booming voice of Greatjon Umber start to evade her ears.

"The bloody wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover!" he shouts loudly, capturing the attention of not only Fianna, but every man in the room, "I will lead the van or I will take my men and march them home!"

Fianna sneaked a peak at Lord Stark's expression, his rage was obvious from where she had been sitting. He hadn't looked at her like that outside, and she insulted him personally then. Her eyes widened as he stands up and speaks his next words in a chillingly calm voice.

"You are welcome to do so, Lord Umber. And when I am done with the Lannisters, I will march back North, root you out of your keep and hang you for an oath breaker."

Everyone quietened then, looking to their liege lord with an undercurrent of fear. Almost as if remembering the power he had over them.

"Oathbreaker is it?" Greatjob shouted in response, unsheathing his sword causing a few to stand up quickly, drawing their sword and ready to defend their liege lord. She didn't know why, but she stood too, ready to involve herself if needs be. Perhaps she was still trying to prove herself.

"I'll not sit here and swallow insults from a boy so green he pisses grass!" Greatjon continued, this actually amused Fianna, who looked down quickly to stop any giggles that threatened to bubble up. His next words eliminated that completely.

"I'd sooner take commands from little Fianna Bua over there and she probably hasn't even bled yet!" Everyone's head snapped to her then, Fianna glowered back and felt her anger building up again.

"Mind your tongue Umber! My wolfhound has taken shits more honourable than you!" She shouts back, which encouraged a laugh out of a few men. Lord Stark kept his glare on Lord Umber.

She tenses as Chroi stands up and bounds over to Lord Umber, growling all the while. He approached the Lord from the side, ready to attack at his masters word.

"You say I have no honour yet you and the green boy over there hide behind dogs like cravens! Since when have children been on the battlefield?!"

Fianna had been so tempted to give the word and let Chroi devour him, yet she didn't need to. Robb Stark's direwolf, the very one she had glowered at only an hour before, leaped up onto the table and lunged at Lord Umber. He took two of Greatjon's fingers and she knew that was probably just a warning even at that.

Fianna's lips lifted into a smirk as the Greatjon writhed on the ground in pain, crying out. She didn't even look away as Robb started to speak.

"My Lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your Liege Lord, and dishonourable to publicly embarrass a lady of a great household," Robb began as Lord Umber started to rise, clutching his bloodied hand that was absent of two fingers, "but doubtless, the Greatjon only meant to cut my meat and give Lady Fianna the opportunity to insult him."

She furrowed her eyebrows at Lord Stark, she hadn't expected him to condemn his words against her - she had half expected him to agree.

"Your meat," Greatjon began, looking between Fianna and Robb, "is as tough as that little lady over there."

They weren't looking at each other when he said it, but Fianna and Robb burst into laughter at the same time, easing the tension of the room as everyone else joined in on the laughter.

Northerners were rare folk, guaranteed no ill feelings would come out of this situation.

As the feast ended, Fianna left the great hall, with Chroi at her side. She felt a little lonely, all the great lords were either walking out with friends or their sons. Yet there she was, alone with her wolfhound.

She was making her way towards the chambers assigned to her when she was stopped by a voice calling to her.

"Lady Fianna!"

She turned around quickly and her expression twisted in confusion at the sight of Robb Stark. He was jogging slightly to catch up to her, a breathless smile on his face.

"Do you still have a hatred for Grey Wind after he took two of Greatjon's fingers in your honour?" He asked, a teasing undertone to his voice which baffled her entirely.

"My lord, I must apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was in a foul mood and you were forced to bear the brunt of it. I had no idea-"

"That I was your liege lord? Would you have acted differently if you knew I was?"

"Of course!" she nodded her head quickly.

"That's a shame, I was hoping you'd provide some much needed entertainment on the journeys ahead." He smiled brightly which made her narrow her eyes.

"As I said, my lord. I am profoundly sorry and ask for your forgiveness." She clasped her hands together in front of her, her expression neutral.

"Consider yourself forgiven. May I walk you to your chambers, my lady?" He asked, a small smile gracing his lips.

"You may, as long as you intend to leave at the door." She joked, instantly biting her tongue when she remembered who she was talking to. This was one of the most powerful Lords in the country, she couldn't share her humour with him as she had with her cousin and knights.

He seemed taken aback by her comment, yet not at all displeased. He held his elbow out to her after approaching her side, to which she placed her hands on for him to guide her to her chambers.

It didn't look that out of place, she was not wearing her armour and instead she wore a lavish Northern-style dress in dark blue for the feast. To a stranger, they'd look like a lady with her suitor. Or perhaps a married couple.

"I must apologise myself, my lady. I recall I didn't greet your party today, I had many matters to attend to I simply didn't have the time. I thank you humbly for the men you have brought to my cause." He said in a firm tone, that gave Fianna the idea that he wasn't all as formal as he acted around his fellow Lords. Merely a boy, pretending to be. Much like she herself was.

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I? I didn't want to be, as you say, rooted out of my keep." She teased with an easy smile, recalling his earlier words to Lord Umber.

"I'd have to get past that dog of yours first."

"Knowing Chroi, he'd probably get distracted chasing a rabbit and not bother with his master being hung as an oathbreaker mere feet away."

He laughed at this, which made her smile. She felt a tinge of guilt for judging him so quickly earlier. Their fathers had been best friends, she owed him the benefit of the doubt.

They had finally reached the door to her chambers, and thus had to part ways. Fianna let go of his arm.

"This was my sister Sansa's room, before she left for King's Landing." He said, with a low voice and a sad smile.

"We're going to get your father back, my lord. I know how you feel, if it were my father... let's just say I'd have every man, woman and child in the North at the gates of King's Landing within the hour."

He nodded his head, a mutual understanding between them.

"I must leave, my lady. We ride out before dawn, I hope to see you soon." He backed away, his eyes checking her over once before leaving and heading off to wherever he was headed.

"And I you." Fianna replied after he was out of hearing distance, opening her door and going inside, desperate to get at least a few hours of sleep before she had to start her journey

* * *

 **As you can see, Fianna's a little hot-headed. I just want to emphasise that Fianna isn't going to be a stereotypical Lady in the GOT universe, but she isn't going to be perfect either. She can be flawed and childish at times. She acts much like a Northern lord, stubborn, and outspoken.**

 **I hope you like it so far!**

 **Thanks so much to those who followed and favorited the story! It means the world to me! And thanks to Jessie for your review! I was a little nervous about posting my first story on here so this really encouraged me!**


	3. (II) Like Father, Like Daughter

_Song: Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men_

They left Winterfell when the night had fallen upon them, to lessen the chance of being seen and therefore, lessen the chance of a rider being sent to King's Landing to inform them the Starks were marching. Which was a very viable possibility where there was a hope of being compensated.

Fianna had dark shadows under her eyes from the lack of sleep, her eyes fluttering between open and closed as she travelled on her horse, with Chroi trotting along beside her. Mud caked the wolfhound's legs and feet, and she decided that when they were to stop to camp, Chroi would lay on the floor from now on, instead of at the foot of her bed where he usually slept.

She hadn't seen Robb Stark since he had left her to her chambers, a small blessing she had realised. She was unsure what to think of him, but she was sure that the last thing she wanted was the Northern Lords thinking she had the intention of pleasing Lord Stark and getting into bed with him. Or that this had been the reason she was riding off to war - for a husband.

He marched at the front, with Lord Glover at his side. His giant direwolf riding alongside him as Chroi did with her.

Fianna was almost avoiding him at this point, purposefully hanging back in the party in case he were to speak with her. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd, being one of only two ladies. She wouldn't be able to avoid him forever, of course. Northern Lords met as a council and she would be required to attend a council meeting whenever Robb decided to stop riding and set up camp.

Ser Mick rode next to her, keeping her company. He was an ageing man, his hairline well receded into a tuft of white hair at the back of his head. But he had a kind face, and had been loyal to House Bua for many years now.

"How are you finding your new position, my lady?" He asked her.

"It's quite jarring, in truth," she admitted, "the only war I've been in before now was when Tiernan and I had stolen two swords and play fought until he nicked the top of my arm." She smiled as she reminisced over the memory. "I was so angry that he had left a small scar, I remember commanding men to carry troughs of horse dung up to his chambers and fling it across his entire room."

Ser Mick laughed at this, leaning his head back with his laughter reverberating around the vanguard. She laughed along with him.

"Perhaps you can fling horse shit again if you get nicked in battle, the bards will sing songs of the horse shit flinging maiden of the North." They burst into laughter again, catching the attention of the surrounding men.

Her laughter started to die down when she noticed the party in front of her had stopped. Every man began to dismount their horse and scatter around. She stepped down from her horse, assuming this was where Stark had decided to set his camp for a while.

Fianna had fetched a few of her men to set up her tent for her, she had left her ladies back at Baelfort so she would have to dress and bathe herself.

Fianna leaves her tent, still donned in the armour specially made her to fit her smaller body and goes off to search for food to fill her belly. Yet instead of the greasy chicken she was hoping to encounter, she runs into the very person she was hoping to avoid.

"Lady Fianna, I have not seen you since we departed Winterfell," he started off, a vague tone of disappointment in his voice, "I was half-convinced you had took your men and marched them home."

Speckles of dirt flicked across his cheeks from the ride, but his dishevelled state did not stop a wide grin forming across his face as he spoke to her. His smile could be described as wolfish, Fianna thought ironically.

"Would that I could, I don't have a large party but if 900 were to suddenly march the opposite direction I imagine someone would notice, my Lord." She responded politely, moving past Robb, careful not to bump his shoulder but obviously determined to move on and not continue conversation.

"A wise man would say that you mean to avoid me, my lady." He followed after her, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and his tone audibly less excited.

"Are you not a wise man then, my lord?" She bit back, not even glancing towards him as she continued to track forward. Her whole body was jolted to the left to face him when he gripped her right arm by the bicep and turned her around, stopping her in her tracks.

"Have I done something to offend you?" He asked in bewilderment, his eyes scanning her face.

"No. But I have no intention of becoming your little whore so I suggest you stop trying to converse with me. I may be one of the only women for miles but I have no intentions of being bedded by you." She roughly shrugged her arm out of his grip, his own arm fell down to rest at his side. Her stony expression faltered slightly upon noticing the look in his eyes. It almost looked like her words had offended, if not actually hurt him.

"I didn't want to talk to you with the intention of bedding you. I meant to befriend you because I thought we could understand each other. But if you think so low of me, perhaps I will leave you alone. Good day, my lady." He said in a deadpan tone, masking his hurt and anger at her.

Her lips parted, ready to apologise but he was already off. She kicked herself mentally, guilt surging through her.

Fianna didn't realise at the time how similar their situations was, how much they could of understood each other. Robb was the son of a Lord who was indisposed, forced to ride to war to win him back yet prove himself to his Lords simultaneously. And him barely a man grown. Fianna was the daughter of a Lord recently passed, forced to ride to war out of allegiance to House Stark and desperately trying to prove herself, barely a woman grown.

She decided then to put off the food, suddenly losing her appetite as she retreated towards her tent in shame.

* * *

Fianna was finally called upon to attend a meeting and as she made her way towards Robb's tent, fear and nerves ate up her innards.

This was her first council meeting, she expected to not be taken seriously by her fellow Lords, she expected to be ridiculed if she put forth ideas, to be respected as a lady and disrespected as a battle strategist. That was only part of her fear, though. She also had to face Lord Robb for the first time since their altercation.

She had barely left her tent since that, too scared of running into him again.

Fianna had tied her long, dark hair back in a warrior braid again. Hoping that if she appeared as less of a Lady, more of a warrior, they would have taken her half seriously.

She entered the tent and found that every Lord was already there. They looked up as she entered, to her further embarrassment.

Fianna nodded her head and moved to sit in an empty seat, which was thankfully far from Robb - who's expression appeared distasteful when she arrived, yet he pointedly avoided looking at her.

A map of Westeros was spread out over the table, with little pawns carved representing each of the armies. Wolf heads for Robb's army, and lion heads for the Lannisters. With a fish to represent the Tully's at Riverrun.

"The River lords are falling back with Jaime Lannister at their heels," Robb began, bringing a lion head to where the Kingslayer was marching on and slamming it down. "And Lord Tywin is bringing around a second Lannister army from the South. Our scouts confirm it's even larger than the Kingslayers." He reaches and brings another lion head to the point Tywin Lannister had reached.

Fuck, Fianna thought. If Jaime's host hadn't been larger than Robb's, Lord Tywin's had to have been. It was a smart strategy, for the Lannister Lord to command an army to take on Robb's while his son slowly but surely took hold of the River lands.

"One army or two, the Kings in the North threw back hosts ten times this large." Greatjon bellowed, Fianna wished she had his confidence. Tywin and the Kingslayer were masterful battle commanders, she didn't come all this way to lose a war.

"Strength in numbers mean nothing, my lord father taught me that tactics won wars. Not a few extra men." She spoke finally, looking up to see the Lords reactions. They all nodded to her, in remembrance of her father. Most likely wishing he could have been here in her stead.

The meeting was interrupted by the figure who entered the tent, Fianna made eye contact with the woman briefly before the woman fixed her gaze on Robb. Fianna kept her narrowed eyes on the stranger, trying to figure out who she was.

"Mother!" Robb called out, and that's when it clicked. This was Catelyn Tully. She should have known, the red tint to her hair was an obvious giveaway.

Fianna had met her husband on a few occasions, when he had visited Baelfort which was, albeit, rare. Yet lady Catelyn, nor their children ever accompanied them, for a reason unknown to her.

"Lady Catelyn, you're a welcome sight in these troubled times." Greatjon sighed remorsefully with a nod of respect to her.

"We had not thought to meet you here, My Lady," Theon Greyjoy added.

"I had not thought to be here.  
I would speak with my son alone. I know you will forgive me, My Lords," Catelyn commanded politely, her eyes flickering to Fianna, full of suspicion, before she added, "and Lady."

Immediately thereafter, everyone started to stand, bustling out of the tent.

"You heard her! Move your asses! Come on, out! You too, Greyjoy! Hurry it up Bua, is that braid of yours weighing you down?" Greatjon rushed them all out of the tent, Fianna almost tripping over herself as she tried to escape. She took in a deep breath of fresh air as she met the outside, the cooler winds ruffling through the loose strands of her hair.

It was said that Robb had brought the North with him. The phrase couldn't have rang any more true as she tilted her head back and let the Summer snow flakes fall on her face.

* * *

 _Catelyn_

The second the tent cleared she rushed towards her son as he made his way towards her, they clutched each other tightly, a reunion of sorts.

She didn't want to dote on him while his lords were present, but now they were gone, her motherly protectiveness shone.

"I remember the day you came into this world red-faced and squalling. And now I find you leading a host to war." She finished her sentence with a stern voice, before remembering the young face of a woman who had been present at the meeting. "And who was that woman? Have you taken a woman for your own, Robb?" She asked curiously.

"There was no one else, mother. And no, of course not. That's the Lady of Baelfort, Fianna Bua." He refused to look at her as he said the words, his gaze dropping to his feet, indicating to Catelyn that there was more to Fianna Bua than being the lady of Baelfort.

Her heart twisted as she remembered what Ned had told her, what she had swore to the gods not to tell Robb of until Ned had. Of the betrothal agreement between Fianna and Robb.

Catelyn had been furious when she was told by Ned, he hadn't consulted her when the betrothal was already signed. She resented him deeply for that, but the news of Jon Arryn had softened the touch she gave him.

Catelyn swore to herself when Robb was born that before he was to be betrothed, which he definitely would be, it wouldn't be a hasty decision. She would meet the girl, forming her own opinion of her first before she promised anything.

But with Ned held captive in King's Landing and the marriage deed back in Winterfell, Catelyn wondered whether the betrothal would ever come to light.

She decided to stop any further talk of her, hoping she was here to serve Robb and nothing more.

"No one? Who were all those men I saw here?"

"None of them are Starks." Robb replied stubbornly, his shoulders getting tense. He hated when people doubted him because of his age.

"All of them are seasoned in battle." Catelyn insisted.

"If you think you can send me back to Winterfell.."

"Oh, would that I could." Catelyn gave in. It was far too late now to talk sense into her son. He would be disgraced in front of his bannerman if he sent everyone home at his mother's request.

"Come, there was a letter from Sansa.."

* * *

 _Fianna_

They were in Robb's tent again, still plotting their next move.

Fianna had reclined back in her chair, one elbow rested on the armrest to rest her chin in her palm, while the other lay flat on the other armrest. She was staring at the map in silence, she had done for some time now. While the lords around her argued about battle plans, she was devising one in her head.

She was going over every possible tactic in her head, her eyes constantly darting between the wolf heads and the lions heads. Her teeth dug into her lip in thought, nobody had been paying attention to her - too caught up in their own plans. Chroi lay asleep on the ground, surprisingly next to Grey Wind. The two had actually become accustomed to being around each other, and no longer met each other defensively.

"The scouts report Lord Tywin moves north. We need to get him on broken ground, put his Knights at a disadvantage." Ser Rodrick suggested, the lords disagreed as did Fianna who shook her head softly, still not breaking her stare at the map.

Lord Tywin could wait for that battle, they needed to break Jaime's siege of Riverrun. That was a more important matter.

"No, we need to get around him and break Jaime Lannister's siege of Riverrun. Do that and the River Lords will join us." Greatjon argued, Fianna hummed in agreement before finally speaking out, her voice raspy from her prolonged silence.

"Fuck Tywin Lannister while Jaime has the River lords by their hair. We take out Jaime Lannister, we win the fealty of the river lords and then we march on Tywin with the strength of the river lords and the Kingslayer as a hostage." She was satisfied with herself when her words were met with a chorus of "aye".

"To do either we need to cross the river and the only crossing is at The Twins." Robb replied, finally making eye contact with the Lady for the first time since these council meetings began. His gaze was powerful and she immediately broke the eye contact.

"Lord Frey controls that bridge. Your father's bannerman." Theon Greyjoy speaks to Lady Catelyn.

"'The late Lord Frey' my father calls him. At the Trident, he didn't appear until the battle was done. Some men takes their oaths more seriously than others."

"Everyone from the wall to Dorne knows Lord Frey can't be trusted. He's a whore who cares little for what people say and more for what people can do for him. His loyalties will sway towards the winning side, if we were to gain his allegiance, who's to say he won't stab us in the back the second we're mid crossing that bridge at the request of Tywin Lannister for a few pieces of gold?" Fianna voiced.

"Robb's right, my lady. We still need that bridge." Fianna threw her hands up exasperatedly, running her hands through her hair which she allowed to let free today.

"So what's it gonna be? Do we move against Jaime or Lord Tywin?" Greatjon asks.

Before anyone can suggest anything, a number of guards enter the tent, a boy in their grasp. Upon noticing the boy is a captured Lannister scout, Theon flips the map and the pawns that lay on top of it.

"Don't worry, lad.  
He won't be leaving this tent with his head." Greatjon threatens.

"Where did you find him?" Robb asks as he approaches the boy, who could have been the same age as Robb and Fianna.

"In the brush above the encampment, he looked to be counting."

"How high did you get?"

"20,000, maybe more."

Robb nodded, a smirk on his lips. It was a false estimate of course, they had some numbers less than that. But Robb wasn't going to tell the entire Lannister army that.

The entire council, except Fianna, bellow in outrage as Robb decidedly lets the boy go. The Greatjon even leaves the tent with frustration, angered more by the fact he couldn't take his rage out on Robb.

All the while this commotion was going on, Fianna had still been planning. And now one had been formulating in her mind, finally. It would be risky, but there was a chance. It was her best idea to date.

"My lord, I've got an idea."

Robb looked to her then, unlike the others he didn't look at her in annoyance. Like she was a child about to spew out childish whims to the lords.

"We will never be able to defeat Lord Tywin, that's a promise. But what if we don't try to? What if we let him think we are?"

"Is that a joke girl? Unless you're a sorcerer as well as a Lady, keep your whims to yourself." Lord Karstark mocked, which Fianna calmly ignored. She lifted one of the wolf pawns and stamped it down facing the lion representing Lord Tywin and took the other wolf heads and set them at Riverrun.

"Can you elaborate, please, Fianna?" Robb addressed her impatiently.

"Like I said, we'd be fools to throw our entire host at Tywin Lannister so early in the war. Right now, Tywin and Jaime are too close for my liking. We need to separate them. And the only way we can do that is by fighting them both, at the same time but not the same place." The Lords were only getting more confused by the minute causing a sigh to emit from Fianna.

"We let a smaller host attack Tywin Lannister's camp, while the larger host goes for Jaime Lannister at the same time. Put a river between father and son, they're expecting us to throw our whole army at them. They're expecting us to rush into war. Let Lord Tywin think he's winning by defeating our smaller host, then let him receive word after that to crush his pride when he learns we've taken back the river lands and defeated Jaime."

Robb places his hands flat on the table, staring intently at the map, contemplating the plan.

"It could work.." Ser Rodrick mumbled.

"We'd be leading the smaller army to their deaths," Robb shook his head.

"Maybe so, but I don't doubt there are men outside in that vanguard who would die for their liege lord and for your cause. They know the sacrifice they'd be making." Fianna tried to reason with Robb, it was sad, truly. The only way they would be able to defeat the Lannisters at this point in time was by sacrificing a few of their own.

"The girl's right, we're at war, my Lord. Losses are to be expected. Sacrifices have to be made, and you as our liege lord and commander have to be willing to make them," Lord Manderly put forth, nodding at Fianna respectfully.

"I take it back, the girls a bloody genius." Lord Karstark slaps Fianna on the top of her back, which felt more painful than what he probably intended.

They all looked to their liege Lord for his opinion on it.

"We leave 2000 men to fight Lord Tywin in the early morning, by then it will have been too late. The rest of our host will ride the day before to Riverrun and take Jaime Lannisters men overnight. He won't have the chance to get word to his father." He spoke, and Fianna's heart swelled immensely.

She had done it. In the short time she had been there, she had been one step closer to proving herself.

Robb dismissed the council, the majority of the lords patted Fianna on the back and tossed compliments her way as they left.

"Was wishing that Cillian Bua was here instead of you girl, but it appears we don't need him." Lord Glover patted her on the back, she nodded her head to him in response, biting her cheeks to hold back her grin.

When the lords had all retreated from the tent, Fianna hadn't realised Robb was still there as she finally let a wide smile split her face.

"You seem proud of yourself."

Fianna whipped around to the sound of his voice. Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I had thought I was alone." She nodded her head once, gathering herself to leave the tent and turning back around, her gaze fixed at her feet.

"You did good, my lady." She looked back up to him at that, a wide smile lifting up her lips. This time at him. "I hope for your sake your plan works."

"It will, it has to. It's the best chance we've got so far."

"You should stop doubting yourself. People here don't hate you as much as you think," he shrugged, cupping his hands together and resting each elbow on the arm rests of his chair.

"They may not hate me but they don't respect me. They doubt me. They see me as nothing but a woman who has no place in a war, and if they see past that, they see a child," Fianna argued, her smile had faded from her lips at the topic they were conversing of.

"And what of your men? Do they not respect you? Do they not follow your every command?"

"Yes, but that's different. They're obliged to."

"The Northern lords are no more obliged to like you than they are to dislike you. They haven't sworn allegiance to you, nor you to them. You didn't strike me as a girl who would care for the opinions of others."

"I don't," she denied stubbornly, to which he responded to with a raise of his eyebrow. "Fine, yes. But these are the people I must fight alongside, it would be nice if they would respect me as a warrior and as a Lord."

"They don't respect that because you haven't shown them that. They don't respect me or my skills in battle ether because they haven't been shown it. You seen it yourself back in Winterfell. They call me green. They call me 'boy'," he was standing now, making his way towards her.

"Then what do you do? Ignore it?"

"No, I prove to them I am what I know I am." Fianna could only nod her head in response, her mind in a whirl. She felt that surge of guilt again, remembering her harsh words from earlier. She had insulted him and yet here he was, helping her.

"Robb... My Lord. About earlier I-"

"Save your apologies, my Lady. They'll fall on deaf ears. I had meant to befriend you as I thought I saw something in you similar to myself but I was wrong." His words were cold, and she couldn't help but feel hurt by them. She nodded her head softly, dropping her gaze to anywhere that wasn't at him before turning around and slowly exiting the tent. Slowly- so as not to look as if she were running away.

* * *

 **The one where Fianna is smart, but not so smart.**

 **I just figured out line breaks, I nearly had a heart attack when I was looking over my story last night and realised the hypens I used to break paragraphs to a new setting had been gone and it all blended together. It was trés messy.**

 **Thanks so much for favouriting and reviewing it lifts my spirits so much!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - Thank you! I fully intend on continuing it.**

 **Trifles - This was such a sweet message thank you! I read so many GOT stories where the heroine is either perfect and great at everything or just a tad boring so I wanted Fianna to be this big, realistic mess. I hope you like this chapter and those to come!**

 **Guest - Was a day later soon enough? Aha x**

 **Jessie - Thank you so much! Her characterisation is something I worried about, I couldn't have her being too perfect but I also didn't want her to be entirely annoying for people to read about, you know? Thank you and have a great day x**


	4. (III) The She-Wolf

**Warning: Triggering content ahead**

 _Song: The Way by Zach Hemsey_

Fianna had been sound asleep, finally catching up on the hours of sleep she lost when they were riding.

Her slumber didn't last long, of course, when the dark figure entered her tent.

He had slit the ties that enclosed the flaps to her tent by shimmying his dagger up from the bottom and cutting through them, sawing at it with his blade.

The man had seen her hound shoot towards the woods minutes before, probably for a hunt. He knew this was his only chance to catch her without the dog's protection - while she was asleep and without her armour she would be particularly vulnerable.

She lay there peacefully, her long, dark hair fanned out behind her and a hand resting over her stomach.

He almost licked his lips at the sight of her. He had heard stories of her beauty throughout the camp, but finding her was like a needle in a haystack. The sheer size of the camp meant it was hard to find anyone, let alone a Lady who rode with the Lords.

He was a simple foot soldier, who had no business being any where close to where she was positioned.

Yet when he finally laid eyes on her some three days ago, he knew he had to have her.

The worst thing was, the man knew well he could get away with it. There were almost 20,000 in this camp and it was dark inside her tent, save for the slight leaking of bright moonlight through the fabric of the walls and roof enclosing around her. Any features she'd be able to identify about him could be said for dozens, if not hundreds, across the camp.

She would be ruined forever, but he'd have his fix. That was all that mattered to him. The man was driven by his sexual desires, and when he hadn't the money or access to a whorehouse, he would take what he wanted from whoever he wanted it from.

He loomed over her now, debating on what to do first. Bind her? Cover her mouth to hold back her screams? Or just get right to it?

Maybe if she woke up to it, she'd be in such a daze from her sleep she'd actually be into it. Maybe she'd be into it none the less. He didn't think himself too ugly, his figure was lean and he was only 25 years of age.

He had been debating over his actions too long, lost in his own sick fantasies because she had stirred in her sleep - feeling the sensation of eyes on her.

Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal her grey orbs. Her eyes opened widely, an expression that made her look so innocent it almost drove him insane.

They widened even further as her eyes focused on the figure above her, opening her mouth and preparing to scream when he shot his hand out and covered her mouth tightly, catching her wails in his palm.

Fianna's natural instincts kicked in, her limbs shooting out to fight against him immediately. She let out small grunts as she hit his body with her fists relentlessly. He put a stop to it when he grabbed both her wrists together in his free, clammy hand, shifting to move his entire body to cover hers. The weight of his body pressed down on her and she was unable to move. She wriggled violently in his hold, starting to sob underneath his hand, which only drove his desires even more.

While he loved to see her whimper beneath him, he knew he couldn't escape having to bind her and gag her. Which would be difficult to do with her fighting back so hard. He didn't mind though, he loved a challenge and he knew she would give him one.

With her mouth covered, she screamed internally. Fianna hoped the mental bond between her and Chroi would bring him to save her, or Robb, or even bloody Greatjon Umber. Anyone.

She closed her eyes and desperately tried to think of a way out of this. She thrashed her head back against the pillow, bringing it forward and throwing it back again and again. She repeated this until his hand slipped down slightly from her mouth, that was all she needed. Opening her mouth wide and stretching her upper lip over his hand, she bit down hard on the side of his palm until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

He grunted in pain, lifting his hand off her mouth. Now he was pissed off. His face reddened with his anger, sputtering as he wrapped his hand around her neck instead, cutting off her air supply to silence her that way.

She would still be a body to him if she was dead.

Panic shot through her instantly, the very real possibility of death nipping at her heels. Her panicking only restricted her chest even more.

She used the concentration he had on choking her against him, managing to wriggle her right hand out of his grip on her wrists. She balled her hand into a fist, lifted it into the air and landed a solid right punch to his jawline, sending him flailing to the side with a shout.

She coughed violently as the air filled her lungs, the dark spots that appeared in her vision starting to disappear. Taking no time at all to catch her breath, she let out a blood curdling scream so loud it was sure to be heard at the Wall.

He looked back up at her with a furious look on his face, instantly reaching for his dagger from a sheath on his calf and gripping it. Fianna scrambled backwards on her bed, keeping her eyes fixed on the man and trying to determine his next move.

He was slowly inching towards her, his dagger angled at her body. Her eyes scanned it quickly before an idea struck her. She was acting on basic instinct now, the fear of the situation had thrown away all of her thoughts and memories of battle training. She relied on her muscle memory.

Fianna inched her hands downwards slowly, still not taking her eyes from him and dug her fingers into the once comforting furs of her bed. She waited until he moved again, before she lunged towards him, taking the furs with her. She shoved the furs around his hand that contained the dagger that was about to impale her.

Fianna used the momentum of her jump to knock him over onto the floor, ensuring the knife was covered by the furs. She straddled him now, a sight he had hoped to see when he entered, yet in a different manner entirely. Her retaliating and punching him in the face was not something he fantasied of.

She was hitting him in the face again and again until the skin over her small knuckles split open. She felt no pain. Her entire body and her actions were running on pure fear, adrenaline.

While he was in a daze from the hits to his face, she wrestled the furs off his hand and reached for the dagger, ripping it from his grasp. She didn't give herself even a second to think, she just brought down the knife to his chest. Repeatedly. Again and again as splatters of blood shot up and covered her face and her white bedclothes. Until blood spurted out of his mouth. Until she was sure the only colour she'd see for the rest of her days was red.

She didn't stop her dagger from hitting him until her mind was sure he was dead. And when she did, that's when the reality of the situation hit her - she dropped the dagger in horror, scrambling backwards to get off of the dead body until her back hit the wall of the tent.

That was how they found her. Covered in blood, her assailants body on the ground, Fianna with her arms wrapped around her knees.

Ser Mick was the first to enter, his tent being the closest to hers. A few other nearby men flooded into her tent, many were her own - desperate to protect their lady.

"My lady!" Ser Mick gasped, rushing towards her and surveying the scene in front of him. The rest of them were speechless, taking in the view and trying to figure out what happened.

Yet there was no one who could deny what obviously happened. A strange man in Lady Fianna's tent, her blood curdling scream, it didn't take a genius to determine what could have urged her to defend herself to the point she killed a man.

Fianna's chest rose and fell quickly, the wild look on her face would be imprinted on the minds of every man there to witness it. She dropped the dagger in her hand, her hands shook violently.

Lord Robb was the last to arrive, shoving his way through the crowd to reach the centre of the commotion. His breathing almost stopped when he seen her, the little warrior woman. An all consuming surge of anger began to course through him. She was a Lady of her house, here to fight his war and one of the men here for him had attempted to defile her.

He took his cloak off and stepped forward slowly, desperate not to scare the trembling girl, who looked more like a fawn at that moment than a ferocious wolfhound, before he draped it around her shoulders.

He dropped down to a crouch next to her, placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder.

"Fianna? Are you okay?" He murmured in a soothing tone. She finally broke out of her dazed state to look at him, her lower lip shaking.

"He tried to-.. he tried.." she choked out, tears filling her reddened eyes and spilling over to fall down her red splattered cheeks.

"Shh," he hushed her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Come, you can stay in my tent tonight." He stood, encouraging her to stand with the intention of helping her walk but she lifted her hands up and shoved his grip off.

A determined look came across her face, her eyes narrowing and her expression looking deadly all of a sudden. As if she had flipped a switch and was no longer broken.

She stood up, throwing Robb's cloak off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor behind her. Everyone looked on in bewilderment as she bent down and reached for the hair on the head of her attacker.

Fianna gripped his hair tightly between her fingers, and using the leftover adrenaline flowing through her, began to drag the dead body out of her tent as everyone looked on in horror. No one dared to stop her or ask her what she was doing.

When she couldn't keep a firm grip on his hair, she reached for the shoulders of his clothes instead and used that to drag him along, one of her fingernails breaking clean off from her tight grip on his clothes. She didn't even flinch. She didn't even notice.

When she reached the entrance to her tent, there had been a few men standing in her way.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" She screamed at them, instantly sending them veering off in every direction that wasn't hers.

A crowd had gathered outside, curiously looking on and asking each other what was going on. The murmurs in the crowd quietened at the sight of the Lady of Baelfort dragging a dead body from her tent.

Fianna let go of the man and let him slump to the ground, his head hitting the grass harshly. She whipped around to face the crowd as Robb came out of the tent behind her, with the intention of following her. But he stopped to let her do what she needed to do.

They all stared at her, stunned into silence and waiting for her next move.

"This man, right here, tried to attack me!" She began to shout, ensuring everyone there could hear her clearly, a finger pointed at the man. Her voice was hoarse because of her ordeal, but it only made her sound stronger. "Tried to defile me! Tried to _rape_ me! Tried to _kill_ me! And now look at him!" She shouted louder and in a burst of anger, lifted her foot and swiftly swung it into his face.

"If any of you fuckers think that because I am a lady I will lay there and let you do what you like with me, I will not give you a quick death like your fellow foot soldier here! I will tear the limbs from your body one by one and make you watch as I feed it to my hound!" She delivered another swift kick to the body, Robb heard the crack of broken teeth that time, before marching forward into the crowd, everyone instantly separated to let her pass through. Like a boat through a river. "I am the Lady of Baelfort, I am not your whore, I am not beneath you, I am Fianna _fucking_ Bua and I came here to win a fucking war!"

With that, she turned around, fresh tears still glistening on her face yet not a man there would ever think it made her weak again. She marched forward until she reached Lord Stark, who was rendered utterly speechless.

He felt many emotions at that minute- fear, for what could have happened. Horror, that he hadn't even considered men would try to attack a Lady of the North in their own camp. And as much as he hated to admit it, pride. Pride that she truly was a warrior, pride that she had defended herself.

"I'll be needing another tent." She stated to him quietly, her voice even more hoarse from her screaming and shouting. She looked down suddenly to notice the blood coating her hands and bedclothes. It had already began to dry. "A bath too." She added quietly.

"Consider it done, my lady. Come with me to my tent and I will see to it these are fetched for you." He forced out, placing his hand on the middle of her back gently, scared she would shoot off again. Robb turned to Ser Mick who was standing there, staring at his Lady with abject fear.

"See to it that she has a new tent, close to my own. And have someone draw her a bath. I want a guard at her tent at night from now onwards." He commanded, Fianna wasn't listening. She was in a complete daze, her senses dulled.

"I'll guard her tent myself, my lord. Myself and Ser Padraig will see to it this never happens again." Robb nodded in response, turning back to Fianna who now had her eyes closed - exhaustion hitting her as the adrenaline wore off. Using his hand on her back, he led her towards his own tent.

He encouraged Fianna to sit down on his bed by gently pushing her shoulders down, his heart ached as he watched the tears still flow unrelenting down her cheeks. Robb sat next to her, resting his elbows on his knees and looking to her worriedly.

"My lady..." he began, being cut off when she shook her head.

"Please. I don't need formalities right now. It's Fianna."

"Alright, Fianna. Are you okay?" He hesitated before asking, fearful of her reaction which was immediate. All of a sudden her stony composure broke and sobs began to wrack her body, which shook violently. Her cries echoed around the fabric walls of his tent.

"I- I don't know what I was more scared of. Being k-killed or raped. Either one seems pretty horrific. He t-tried to rape me and when I fought back he started to choke me and-" she cut off as cries began to fall from her lips again, her head tilted down. She lifted her hand up to her neck in memory, her fingers brushing over the pain.

"But you fought back, my- Fianna," Robb corrected himself, she didn't need formalities right now. "You fought back and you stopped it. Many women wish they could have had an outcome as fortunate as yours." He placed a hand on her forearm, desperate to soothe her.

She didn't respond to this, not having anything more to say. She surprised him completely when she leaned over and rested her head against his shoulder, desperately seeking comfort from someone. Even if she knew that said someone was on particularly bad terms with her before the incident.

He responded by wrapping his arm firmly around her, holding her trembling form to him.

Robb didn't know how long he held her there, but he was willing to hold her for so much longer until the rustling of his tent flaps caught their attention.

Chroi trotted in, smelling where his master was and going to find her after his hunt. He began to whine when he noticed her distressed state, immediately padding over to her and sniffing at her feet. He lifted up and placed his paws on her knees, so he could get to her tear stained face and lick her cheeks.

Fianna pulled away from Robb, he noticed his side felt cold without her. She bent over, still seated on the bed and wrapped her arms tightly around the hound.

Robb could see the connection they had, it reminded him much of the one he shared with Grey Wind. It was unique to them.

"You can lay down here, Fianna. You need your rest after that ordeal." He placed his hand on her shoulder, standing from the bed.

"Are you leaving?" She looked up at him with wide, fearful eyes, her broken expression breaking his heart.

"No, I was just going to sit over there. I swear it to you, I won't leave you alone tonight." He squeezed her arm comfortingly as she nodded once in response, her eyes following him as he sat down in a chair on the other side of the tent. He was fully intent on watching her all night, if not to ensure her safety, which she had clearly assured herself, to soothe her state of mind.

She lay down in the bed, drawing the furs down and then lifting them over her so they hugged her body warmly. She patted the bed so Chroi would lay with her. He lay down beside her, his warm body moulded against hers as she wrapped her arm around him. Quiet whimpers fell from her lips again and lasted until she cried herself to sleep.

Chroi had been there for her when her father died, comforting her at night, and it seemed fitting now that he would be there when a small part of Fianna died too.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb had been fighting against sleep, desperate to keep his eyes open. He knew he should be resting because tomorrow he would be riding for the Twins. But that was the last thing he thought of now.

When Ser Mick entered the tent, he stood up and walked to him, not wanting to wake Fianna. It had taken over an hour of her cries before she fell asleep.

"My lord, we've set up a tent and a bath is being run for her as we speak." He told Robb with his hands behind his back respectfully.

"Lady Fianna will sleep here tonight. I don't wish to disturb her rest now. Bathing can wait."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, my lord? With respect, the others in the camp may have a thing or two to say about a lady staying in a Lord's tent over night."

"I could care less what any man says tonight. They can approach me and see if they are brave enough to say it then."

Ser Mick nodded, leaving the tent again. Robb sauntered over quietly back to his chair and sat down again.

He began to read through his letters then. Few had been directed to him, few had been from ravens sailing for the Twins that Theon had shot down.

He read them over and over again, with no real strategy behind it. He was just desperate to stay awake and keep a watchful eye over Fianna.

In truth, he didn't know why he was being so protective over her. He had been so angered by her before, and although he hated it to admit, truly hurt by her accusations.

Fianna was a beautiful lady, and he had no doubts she'd make a fine wife, if a Lord could handle his Lady to be as outspoken as he was. But Robb didn't come to this war to find a Lady to marry, every minute of every day he reminded himself he was here to get his father and sisters back. It plagued his thoughts daily.

Yet still, Robb found himself utterly intrigued by her. They only had a handful of conversations since first meeting, yet he was absolutely enthralled by the manner in which she carried herself. The anger, the amusement and the lust she aroused in him.

He was most definitely attracted to her physically, that he couldn't deny, not even to himself.

What worried him most was the fact he was intrigued enough by her to want to know more. He wanted to know everything about her. He wanted to know about her childhood, what Baelfort is like, her likes, her dislikes, what drives her.

She completely insulted him when she suggested he had only intended to bed her. Because although the thought crossed his mind, above all, Robb wanted to get to know the Northern Lady. The she-wolf.

His anger had almost dissipated completely at the council meeting, she was the youngest person in the tent yet when she spoke of a plan she alone had devised, she sounded older than them all. More experienced than them all. Maybe it was in her blood, or maybe Cillian Bua had taught her well.

Robb decided at that moment that he had to know her. Surely he could still fight this war with, if not his lover, his friend?

He didn't care that she so obviously cared for her reputation, he didn't know much of what loneliness felt like but he knew for sure that Fianna Bua was lonely. She had no family, no friends, only a wolfhound for company and a Knight who was obligated to stay with her by oath.

Robb was going to change that.

* * *

 **This was such a hard chapter to write and I debated writing it at all, but I needed to show how vulnerable Fianna was at war in a world like Game of Thrones, her little spectacle was her angry side and also fueled a little by her obsession with not appearing weak.**

 **I hope you liked it! Well, not liked, exactly. It was kinda dark.**

 **Otakugirl1996 – Thank you! I'm so glad you like her character, I hope you enjoyed this chapter x**

 **Jessie – Thank you so much! Fianna's practically obsessed with proving herself, which is quite unfortunate for Robb aha x**

 **L – Aww thank you! I'm glad you see that it's her personality coming into play rather than just a stupid storyline, don't worry they won't be at odds forever! x**

 **Evangeline Carter – I'm so glad that you do! I hope you liked this chapter! x**


	5. (IV) First Blood

_Song: Warriors by Imagine Dragons_

 _Fianna_

It was Lady Catelyn who ventured inside the Twins to speak with Lord Frey, much to Robb and the other Lord's dismay.

She had been gone for some time, and to distract himself from worrying, Robb called a meeting in her absence to further discuss their strategy.

This time, Fianna did not sit as far from him as she could possibly get. He practically forced her to sit at his side, and if the other Lords noticed - they dared not to say anything.

Ever since Fianna's attack, everyone had looked at her in a new light. Whether that was good, or not, varied on the person. Some men feared her, whispered in the night that she was insane. That she was a cold blooded killer. They spoke of the attacker's wounds and claimed it looked as if her wolfhound had killed him, not her.

Some looked at her with distrust, believing a vile rumour that spread across the camp that she had been in a tumultuous affair with the man and when he told her he wanted to stop seeing her to preserve their honour, she killed him in a fit of rage.

Yet there was a fraction who looked at her in a way she never imagined she'd be looked upon in this war. With respect.

Robb had been coddling her, which she absolutely detested. He acted as if she had been fully assaulted, like she was a little bird who had broken her wings and he was nursing her back to health. His gentle manner towards her drove her mad and made her uncomfortable. She wasn't a victim. She refused to be treated as one.

Yet she couldn't deny that she enjoyed his company more by each passing hour. Fianna hadn't realised just how lonely she was, with only a dog for company, until Robb and her formed an acquaintance. He brought her out of her shell, and the two laughed and shared stories and teased each other as often as they could. They rode along side each other when they marched and ate their food together.

Whispers has been rife, with many placing bets that the Lord of Winterfell would offer the Lady of Baelfort his hand in marriage. But Fianna wasn't concerned with that. She was just content that she felt less like a fish out of water, or a Bua away from Baelfort.

"Jaime's camp consists of 12,000 men, spread out over three camps across Riverrun." Robb had been explaining, shifting three lion pawns until they stood on the map at the position of each camp.

"The dispersion will make them easier to attack. We would struggle against his entire host, especially with the men we would be losing who are marching on Tywin," Fianna mused, her forefinger and thumb pinching her lower lip.

Every head in the tent looked up at the sight of Lady Catelyn finally having returned, she had spent the better part of a day discussing with Lord Frey and the sun was beginning to set, a red fiery hue painted the sky.

"Well? What did he say?" Robb asked impatiently as he stood up from his chair.

"It's done. Lord Walder will grant you your crossing. His swords are yours as well, less four hundred he means to keep back to hold the Twins. I suggest you leave four hundred of your own, a mixed force of archers and swordsmen. Lord Walder will need help keeping faith." The news had been good, but Fianna knew better than to get excited or hopeful. Especially if the grim look on Catelyn Stark's face was anything to go by.

"And what does Lord Walder want in return? Of us?" Robb asked tentatively, almost fearing her response.

"If you can spare the swords," she told him, "some men will be needed to escort two of his grandsons North to Winterfell. I agreed to take them as wards."

"Is that all? Two fosterlings? That's a small enough price-"

"You will be taking Lord Frey's son Olyvar as your personal squire," she went on."He expects him to be knighted, in good time."

"Fine, fine. And?"

"Arya will also marry Lord Walder's youngest son, Waldron, when they both come of age."

Fianna and Robb grimaced. Fianna never met the youngest Stark daughter, but to be betrothed so young, and to a Frey no less, was a thing to pity.

"She won't be happy about that. Not one bit." He shook his head, looking away he assumed that was the end of Lord Walder's terms - surely it had to be, they asked so much already. But when he seen his mother still standing there expectantly, he knew there was more to come. "And?"

"When the fighting is done, you are to wed one of his daughters," she finished. "Lord Walder has consented to allow you to choose whichever girl you prefer."

Fianna stopped herself from flinching, the arm rests her forearms were resting on now became of use to her as she dug her fingernails into the wood. She kept her expression stony, noticing when a few of the Lords in the room looked directly at her. They were expecting a reaction from her, one she wasn't going to give. Robb looked to Fianna at the corner of his eye, his expression blank - not showing whether he was happy with this or not. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he wouldn't be.

He was silent for a moment before he finally spoke, "I see. Did you get a good look at his daughters?"

At this, Theon sniggered and Fianna rolled her eyes.

"I did."

"And?"

"One was... Mhm. Do you consent?" She looked to him expectantly while Robb looked to the side, mulling over his thoughts before looking back to his mother.

"Can I refuse?" He asked, trying to mask the discontent Fianna could hear in his voice.

"Not if you want to cross."

"Then I consent." He agreed with a thick voice, moving to leave the tent immediately. Theon began to laugh, finding Robb's situation humorous. It was well known around Westeros that Lord Walder's children weren't blessed with the gift of beauty. To marry one was the joke of many, and now Robb would be forced to out of duty.

Fianna left the tent after a moment, deciding to go to her own tent to gather her thoughts. She roughly shouldered Theon on the way past, muttering "Shut up, Greyjoy," which silenced him immediately.

* * *

She hasn't expected to see Robb waiting for her in her tent, his figure pacing back and forth impatiently as she walked in.

"Robb?" She asked curiously, half turned to get ready to leave if he needed to be alone.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want to marry a Frey girl. I wanted to marry for love, not to cross a bridge." He exploded into a rant, his hands reaching up and running them through his red-tinted hair in distress.

"Calm down," Fianna told him as she walked to him quickly. She grabbed his hands and ripped them down from his head, squeezing them tightly and forcing him to look at her. "Love isn't a luxury you would ever have gotten. Love wasn't a luxury your parents were given. Love grew as they got to know each other, perhaps it will for you too." Her tone was calm, trying to reason with him.

"Love grew but my father still brought home a bastard. He's the most honourable man I know, yet he didn't stay true to his wife and done the most dishonourable thing he could have done. What if he loved that woman? What if he keeps Jon around to remind him of her?" He ripped his hands from her grip and turned, starting to pace again.

"Everyone in the North knows the love between Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. You are, with respect, acting like a fool, Robb." He stopped at this, turning his head to her. He wasn't happy by her words.

"A fool? Is it foolish to wish that I would meet a girl before I marry her?" She was silenced by that. He was right. Absolutely right. If her father had came to her and told her she was to be married to a strange man she would have had to be dragged to her wedding kicking and screaming.

"You're right," she told him, which caused surprise to appear on his expression. "This situation is shit. Your father laying in King's Landing and being hailed to the people as a traitor is shit. This war is shit. You having to marry a girl, a fucking _Frey,_ just to cross a bloody bridge is shit. But you've consented to it now, all we can do is hope that she's got her wits about her."

He started to calm at her words, nodding his head slightly. Without warning, he leaned down and wrapped his strong arms around her, squeezing her tightly.

Fianna was too shocked for a moment to respond, and when she finally did, she wrapped her arms around his middle, her cheek against his chest.

* * *

The clattering of hooves against the wood of the bridge gate almost had a smug sound to it. Almost.

Fianna hung back a little, letting Robb lead the vanguard. He did so with a solemn look on his face, his lady mother riding by his side often glanced over to him, trying to figure out what was going on in the mind of her eldest son.

When they departed from the Twins, the Frey men now in addition, their horses began to sprint.

Fianna's plan would only be successful if Lord Tywin didn't receive word of the vanguard approaching Riverrun.

They exhausted their horses, desperate to reach the Lannister camp by night. They didn't stop to break at all. Any man that dismounted his horse to urinate or defecate, was forced to rejoin the vanguard way further back than his original position.

Fianna felt a tinge of guilt as she looked down at Chroi, the hound was getting exhausted from the fast pace of the army yet there was nothing she could do. Chroi was too big now for her to somehow manoeuvre him onto her horse. She felt guilt that she had brought him at all, he was fierce and could probably kill a man sure, but Fianna would never forgive herself if something happened to him.

Now more than ever, she needed his comfort. The events of the few nights before still played with her mind, making her anxious and stopping any chance of her sleeping. When she closed her eyes, she was hit by the fear that she would see him when she opened them again.

Chroi hadn't left her side to hunt since that, picking up on her anxiety and refusing to leave her. He laid in her bed with her at night, like he had done when he was a mere pup. He was also overly defensive of every man that approached Fianna, jumping up and bristling if anyone besides Robb or Ser Mick came to her.

Even with her wolfhound, and Ser Mick or Ser Padraig stationed outside her tent at night, she was terrified.

Fianna had just narrowly escaped being raped and/or murdered by the skin of her teeth. She found she was suddenly afraid, to some extent, of every man in the vanguard. Which amounted to around 20,000.

The lustful looks thrown her way, she no longer rolled her eyes to. Now she shied away, fear settling in her bones as she was aware of the very real possibility that the attack could be repeated.

Her theatrics in dragging her attacker's body outside had been, in part, to terrify others. To show that she wouldn't just accept an attack, that she would fight back.

* * *

It all began with Grey Wind's howl, an omen of sorts, to set a chill in the Lannister army before they realised what was about to happen.

They were taken totally by surprise, caught with their breeches down, as Greatjon Umber later described. By the time they realised what was happening it was too late. The Blackfish ensured every Lannister scout from both Tywin and Jaime's army had been killed.

Robb, the Freys and the Buas led an army attacking from the West. Karstark was positioned from the North and the Mallisters, Mormont and Umber parties led from the East.

The base of the plan had been Fianna's idea, but Robb and his Lords had been the one to set the trap.

Brynden Tully, with a few of Robb's men who were dressed in the Tully house colours, carrying Tully banners, drew Jaime out of his camp.

Robb and Fianna waited patiently on horse back, their expressions stern and their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw when the signal was given.

Fianna looked more of a warrior than ever, dirt caking her cheeks from the ride to Riverrun, her hair tied back in her signature braid. The bruises from her attacker surrounded her neck, but she wore them like a badge of honour, almost as if she were reminding everyone of what she was capable of.

Their horses stirred as the Mormont forces sounded out their horns, the signal they were to give when Jaime had fallen for their trap.

They unsheathed their swords immediately and took off towards the Whispering Wood, Fianna swore she'd never forget the look on the Lannister forces faces when they were completely blind sided.

On horseback, they were unstoppable. They cut through the Lannister men like a knife through butter, flailing their swords through the air and meeting a body at the other end almost every time. Chroi soared through the woods, always searching for a new victim and when he had found one each time, he knocked them on their backs and ripped their throats out.

Fianna let out a small scream when her horse had its leg cut off, the horse collapsing and taking Fianna down with it.

She hit the ground face first, surely scraping the left side of her face and caking it in the dirt and mud of the forest floor. She hissed in pain as she pressed her palms against the ground, pushing herself up slowly. When she stood, she took a deep breath, bending down to pick up her sword when the sight of a figure caught the corner of her eye.

She whirled around, both hands clutching the hilt of her longsword to hold its heavy weight steady. She met the Lannister man with her steel head on, holding her sword against his in a fight for dominance. She lifted her foot and kicked it up to boot the man in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards. When she lifted her sword again, it was to shove through his throat.

He let out a string of guttural noises, choking on his own blood as he died slowly. She ripped her sword back out and a spray of blood followed it, speckling over her dirty cheeks and her bruised neck.

Fianna had no time to think, she turned and began to run then, her sprint laboured by the weight of her armour.

She followed the forces as they ran on horseback, feeling particularly more vulnerable without her horse.

Fianna spotted him then. Jaime Lannister.

He wore no helm, his golden head of hair shining in the moonlight.

Fianna rushed forward, keeping her gaze fixed on the Kingslayer as he murdered Lord Karstark's son, who she recognised.

When he lifted his sword again, ready to attack another, briefly catching sight of the wolfhound on the man's shield that was about to get hit, Fianna's sword was there to catch Jaime's blade.

He stumbled backwards, his gaze switching to her quickly. A burst of fury filled her as he actually had the audacity to laugh.

"The Stark boy has women fighting for him now does he?" He spat at her, swinging his sword expertly, which Fianna caught every time, albeit she was struggling.

"Maybe if you had women fighting for you, you wouldn't be about to lose," she growled. She swung her sword underneath his and just scraped the tip of the blade against his stomach, she would have cut him had he not jumped swiftly backward.

He lifted his blade again, meeting hers head on. The two held their blades against the other, using all of their strength to hold the position and force it back on the other person - yet Jaime, being stronger than Fianna with a taller height, had the advantage.

He pushed his blade against her, her back starting to recline back until she fell against the ground, her blade still against Jaime's as she desperately tried to stop it from hitting her throat.

Her eyes teared up with the pressure, her teeth digging into her lip harshly.

When Jaime smirked and then pushed the sword even harder, as if he had been preserving his strength this entire time, she was sure this was her end.

Until all of a sudden, a grey mass soared through the air, taking the Kingslayer from the side and shoving him down to the ground, which knocked the sword from his hand.

Fianna scrambled to the ground quickly while Chroi snapped at the Kingslayer, ready to dig his teeth into his neck, Jaime holding the dog back by his forearm against the dog's neck.

As Fianna scrambled onto her feet, her sword still in her hand, she rushed forward as Jaime got a hold of Chroi's head with both hands, ready to twist her dog's head and break his neck.

"No!" She screamed, rushing forward and ready to bring her sword down to chop off the Kingslayer's arms.

But she was disrupted by Grey Wind, who sailed past her and wrapped his jaw around Jaime's forearm harshly.

Jaime yelled out in pain, dropping his hands from Chroi who Fianna called to come to her quickly, thanking the gods he actually obeyed, letting Grey Wind finish the job.

The rest of the lords and men approached then, standing in a circle around Jaime as he writhed on the ground in pain.

Grey Wind left, returning to Robb and standing by his side.

Jaime stood up slowly, clutching his bleeding arm. He turned in a circle, noticing the position he was in before jokingly letting out a laugh, as if it humoured in.

"I surrender, then." He grinned, falling to his knees as men rushed forward to bind his arms and legs, being rougher than necessary with him.

Fianna rubbed her cheeks with the back of her hand, staring at the man with pure hatred in her eyes.

"Having a woman fight your battles, eh Stark?" Jaime teased arrogantly as he was hauled up, the Lord finally coming into view. Jaime had cut through the Karstark sons trying to get to that boy.

"You didn't even mark her skin, so I would say I've chosen my fighters well, Lannister," Robb bit back, approaching the blonde haired enemy. "More than I can say for you."

"And woodland creatures too? Say, I wonder how you all would fair if I brought a lion with me to a battle?" He mused, a smug expression on his face. Trying to appear nonchalant about the fact he had been defeated, his army obliterated and himself captured.

"Take him back to the camp. My lady mother would like to see the man who flung my brother from a window chained and beaten like the animal he is," Robb commanded, "we'll see how tough you are yet, Lannister."

When he was out of sight, Robb rushed towards the Lady of Baelfort.

"Are you injured, my lady?" He asked worriedly, his eyes scrutinising over her, checking every area of blood for a wound.

"I am fine, my lord. The blood is not mine." She said quietly, her eyes scanning over his own face. "And you?"

"I am just fine, more than fine," he laughed shortly, a wide grin of achievement appearing across his face. His smile fell as his fingers reached up to touch the scrapes along the side of her face, which were only minor for sure, but still stung slightly. She hissed at the slight burn but continued to let him check over her face.

Their eyes met then, the rush of the battle still flooding through their veins as they were giddy with the undeniable sense of achievement and victory.

His hand flattened to cup around her cheek, and the air stilled around them. Perhaps it was the high they were living on from the battle, but Fianna found she couldn't break their shared gaze. Her heart rate picked up immensely, beating even harder than when she was fighting. His hand felt warm on her cheek and she found she wished he would never remove it.

But he had to, she concluded sadly. Lifting her hand up and wrapping her fingers around his forearm, she dragged his hand gently from her face and let it fall to his side, finally breaking eye contact and turning to follow the rest of the vanguard back to camp.

"My lady!" Robb's voice called her back, "You don't have a horse." He reminded her quietly, his cheeks were flushed red.

* * *

Robb rode swiftly back to the hill his lady mother awaited him on, with Fianna on his horse too. She sat in front of him, his chest against her back. They didn't talk the whole ride back, making their position extremely awkward.

Fianna almost wished she had just walked back. Or at least tried to find another horse.

She felt the cool air of his breath on the back of her neck and it gave her goosebumps with every exhale.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally reached their destination, lifting her leg over and hopping off the horse when Robb slowed down, him following after her.

Robb approached his mother, who could hardly contain her relief at seeing him alive. It was obvious she was holding back from grabbing her son to show face in front of the other lords, tears had been welling in her eyes.

"By the time they knew what was happening," Robb told her, "it had already happened."

The men dropped a tied up Jaime Lannister by Catelyn's feet, to which the proud smile she gave Robb fell. She glared down to the Kingslayer with disdain.

"Lady Stark," Jaime drawled sarcastically, "I'd offer you my sword, but I seem to have lost it."

"It is not your sword I want," she spoke back coldly. "Give me my daughter's back. Give me my husband."

"I've lost them too, I'm afraid."

Fianna rolled her eyes and lifted her sword from its sheath, coming behind Jaime and ramming the bottom of the hilt into the back of Jaime's head to silence him. He let out an "oof" sound, and fell forward.

"Kill him, Robb. Send his head to his father. He cut down ten of our men, you saw him!" Theon encouraged.

"And give the Lannisters reason to kill his father and sisters, Greyjoy?" Fianna disagreed.

"Yes," Robb sided with Fianna, "he's more use to us alive than dead."

Catelyn commanded the men guarding the Kingslayer, "Take him away and put him in irons."

"We could end this war right now, boy, save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, l fight for the Lannisters. Swords or lances, teeth, nails - choose your weapons and let's end this here and now." Jaime called out to Robb, looking every bit a desperate man.

"If we do it your way, Kingslayer," Robb began, turning back to face Jaime and looking down at him, figuratively and literally, "you'd win. We're not going to do it your way." With that, he smirked as Greatjon Umber began to drag their new prisoner away.

"I sent 2000 men to their deaths today," Robb spoke morosely, to which Fianna placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice." Theon suggested, trying to ease his friend of his guilt.

"Aye, but the dead won't hear them," Fianna muttered, turning to Robb, "this is war, Robb. Those men today died for our cause. We can only honour them and remember what they sacrificed."

Robb nodded his head softly before he turned around to face his vanguard, straightening his shoulders and standing tall, "One victory does not make us conquerors! Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees? This war is far from over."

And it was, far from over. For not a man or woman present knew of the  
true war to come, and the many more casualties that would be lost.

* * *

 **I was excited to write the battle finally! I hope I done it justice!**

 **Thanks to everyone who has been favouriting, following and reviewing, it means the world to me!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - She sure does! It was very satisfying writing how she fought back against him. Thank you! And thank you for always reviewing! x**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowaboutyou- I hope you liked this one! x**

 **Guest - Unfortunately some men can't seem to control themselves, it's quite sad really but realistically it was going to happen sooner or later when she's surrounded by soldiers, it even happens in modern times in the army!**

 **Jessie - Thank you so much and thank you for always reviewing also! x**

 **Evangeline Carter - Thanks so much sweetie! x**

 **DennaHastings- So do I! Especially when Robb Stark is involved ;) I'm glad you're liking Chroi! He's such a goofy dog I love writing about him he's a real sweetheart.**

 **Hi I'm Ella - This review honestly made my day thank you so so much for your kind words! I have so much planned for it but I'm so picky about what I'm writing its never as good as I think it should be, so to hear that you see potential in it and that you like it means a lot! Thank you and have a lovely day x**

 **Werewolfs-team - Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter! x**


	6. (V) The Pack Leader

_Song: King in the North by Ramin Djawadi_

Dark wings, dark words.

The phrase never rang more true than now.

They had all been gathered in Robb's tent, discussing what they were to do with their newfound hostage when the scroll was handed to Robb.

He unwrapped it carefully, and Fianna swore she had never seen a man struggle to keep his composure so much. His face had reddened considerably, his entire posture stiff.

"Robb, what is it?" Catelyn approached him, placing her hand on his arm comfortingly. All he could do was shove the paper that had flipped their world upside down, made every victory seem irrelevant, made every happy moment seem tainted, into his mother's small hands.

He rushed out of the tent. Fianna followed after him, sticking her head out of the tent to see where he was headed. She was even more confused at the sight of his retreating figure heading towards the forest.

She stepped back into the tent, looking over to Lady Catelyn who placed the scroll down on the table. Her face had considerably paled, her hands shaking as she placed it down. She closed her eyes for one prolonged moment and then opened them again.

"My lady?" She asked quietly, approaching her slowly.

"He's gone," was all she could say. Her eyes directly fixed on the scroll that was discarded on the table. Fianna plucked the paper up, gesturing to Lady Stark for permission to read it. Catelyn nodded her head once before leaving the tent too.

She unrolled the script, the Northern lords turning to her and waiting expectantly for her to read its contents.

Fianna's eyes widened as she read the words, her breathing becoming shallow in shock. She gently rolled the script up again, her wide eyes looking around to her fellow Lords.

"My Lords, it's news of Lord Stark. Eddard, that is," she mumbled vaguely, her eyes not really focusing on anything.

"Well? Spit it out girl!" Greatjon commanded of her. She sighed morosely and looked to him.

"He's been beheaded.. by King Joffrey," she told them. The silence lasted all of a minute before the eruption.

"How _dare_ they! This is an act of war!"

"This cannot stand!"

"We must march on Kings Landing!"

"Kill the Kingslayer in honour of Lord Stark! Impale his head on a spike!"

"My lords!" Fianna cut them off with a loud, stern voice. "Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark are surely grieving their loss. You will give them time to heal and do not pester them with your ideas of revenge. When Lord Stark is ready to hear them, he will call a council meeting."

She left the tent before they could object, debating internally whether she should find Robb to offer her condolences, or leave him alone to grieve with his loss with his mother.

Fianna stood for a moment, her eyes scanning the tree line, searching for any sight of her liege lord. Perhaps he had wanted to be alone, and that's why he went into the trees - where no one else was stationed.

She jumped at the sight of Lady Catelyn appearing from the forest, her hands crossed in front of her in a grave manner. Fianna stayed put, intending to leave the woman to grieve but it had been Catelyn who approached her.

Catelyn eyed the younger girl for a moment, the secret she had been keeping would surely affect Fianna too. The reasons she had been keeping them seemed so irrelevant to her now, now Robb was doomed to live with the pain of his father's death and being married to a girl he wasn't supposed to wed.

She had seen the bond between the two, it developed in the blink of an eye and when it began, it blossomed daily. She heard the story of her attack, knew that Fianna was a warrior. She hoped the secret glances her son threw towards the Lady were nothing but a boy's attraction to a strong, independent woman, one he had no hope of getting with.

If Robb had been told of the betrothal, he would doubtlessly marry the girl in an instant. Nothing a Frey girl could offer would withstand what Fianna could give him, because Catelyn doubted there was any woman in Westeros that was anywhere close to Fianna Bua.

Catelyn tried to convince herself that she was doing the right thing. They needed the Frey men to fight for Robb and to get them Robb needed to be betrothed, to keep them, he needed to stay betrothed.

Yet she couldn't deny the guilt that overcame her. And now that Ned was gone - she prayed for forgiveness from the Gods, as well as praying for Ned.

"Go to him," she told her quietly. Catelyn placed a hand on Fianna's forearm. She sensed the worry in Fianna's expression and knew that, as much as she wished they wouldn't have the bond that they did, Robb needed her.

That was all Fianna needed to hear.

The entire situation was all too familiar for her, surrounded by people mourning a man only she had a true bond with. Now, it was Robb and Catelyn in her position.

She suddenly longed for a mother of her own, to be able to share in her grief and pain when her father passed. But alas, having a parent was not a luxury the Gods deemed Fianna fit to have.

She sauntered quickly through the trees, her head whipping around quickly trying to find Robb.

She stopped in her step, silencing the sound of her feet crunching on the leaves when she heard the sound of sobbing.

Fianna followed the sound, her pace slower now so as not to startle him by approaching him too quick.

Her heart completely broke at the sight, Robb was crumpled on the ground. His back against the tree, a battered and destroyed sword by his side, his hands gripping his head as he sobbed freely.

"Robb," she called softly, walking closer. His head snapped up in surprise. He frantically began to rub his cheeks with his hands, trying to eliminate the proof of his anguish.

Fianna rushed forward immediately and dropped to her knees at his side, ripping his hands away from his face. When he tried to stand, she tugged him down roughly to stop him from standing up.

"No, don't you do that," she said, gripping his forearms tightly and looking him in the eye with a fierce look in her own. "Don't you dare hide what you are feeling from me. Everything you are feeling, I have felt. You cannot expect to hold your pride above grieving your loss."

His expression crumpled again, another sob ripping out of his throat. He clutched Fianna by the shoulders and brought her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her and desperately seeking comfort from the younger girl.

Fianna stiffened slightly, physical touch had always made her slightly uncomfortable. But she pushed that aside and moulded her body against Robb's.

Due to his sitting position, the two didn't even care that Fianna was sitting in his lap. They both clutched at each other and forced themselves so close together there was no other option.

Fianna rested her head against the side of his, her hands gripping onto his hair as he buried his head into the crook of her neck, his arms wrapped around her steel breastplate as tight as he possibly could.

Frustrated with this, he grunted and reached up, untying the ties that bound her armour and pulled it off of her, quickly. She sat quietly and let him work, and he finally freed her, he gripped her body finally - no longer separated by the armour.

"I know, I know," she soothed, offering Robb the only thing he would accept right now - understanding.

They sat like that for a while until Robb's silent cries died down. She was off his lap now, sitting next to him as he leaned his head against her shoulder. Her hand reaching up and slowly brushing his curls soothingly, almost like a child. She didn't even mind the weight of his armour as he pressed against her. The weight of his pain weighed heavier.

"How did you do it?" He spoke after what seemed like hours, the sun was starting to go down causing a red hue to fill the sky. His voice was hoarse from his screaming and crying.

"I didn't. I cried. I lashed out. I took a sword and I beat a stuffed dummy with it all day, every day. I cursed him, I cursed everyone - my father for leaving, the gods for taking him, the maid who had cried over his loss as if she knew him at all. I hated everyone and I hated myself.

"And then.. it just started to dull. I cried a little less, I lashed out less often, I was sad. _So_ completely sad. I still am, in truth. But I refused to stay in my bed another day and not rule Baelfort in his honour. To spend another day not contributing to the name he had made for our house. My father wouldn't want me to put my life on hold, and neither would yours."

He leaned his head off of her shoulder, choosing instead to rest it back against the trunk of the tree to be able to look at Fianna. Fianna looked up at him, turning her head to the side.

"I don't know what to do. I can't even think of this war now, all I can think of is killing the men who did this," he admitted to her, his manner now stronger than it had been all day.

"And you don't need to, you have us. The Northern Lords. You are not alone, Robb," she turned suddenly, Sitting on her knees so she could face him. She reached in and gripped his hands tightly, forcing him to look at her. "I swear to you, by the Old Gods, I will help you destroy every single person who would ever harm you or your household. I will help you avenge your father, Robb. And those that would ever hurt you again will die, screaming." She assured him, reaching up and gripping his jaw tightly so he kept their gaze.

His eyes watered again, but he found this time it wasn't with sorrow, but with appreciation.

When they rose finally, their legs had been stiff from sitting for so long. They nodded to each other once, out of respect before venturing out of the forest back towards camp.

This time, when Robb entered his tent - he had not been forced to hold his composure. He had not been red faced and eyes wet, he looked more fierce and determined than he ever appeared in his life.

He looked like a King.

* * *

At the feast that night, Robb had not attended. He was with his Lady mother, understandably.

Fianna ate beside Ser Mick, instead. Finding his company rather enjoyable. Aside from Robb, Ser Mick was one of the only people she could truly trust in this camp.

"I saw you come out of the woods with Robb Stark," he began, to which she internally sighed to, "forgive me, but you are playing a dangerous game, my lady."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Ser," she said resolutely. Her tone suggested that she knew exactly what Ser Mick was hinting to, but she refused to let him elaborate. She reached over and gripped onto her cup of wine, sipping it loudly before setting it down firmly.

"He is betrothed to be married, my lady. There cannot be any relations beyond friendship between you two."

"Well, that's a good thing there isn't any, isn't it?" She said, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes burning with warning.

"You can deny it all you want to me, my lady. But I've been there since you were born, and long before that. I know the woman you are, I know you are not foolish. I must urge you to remind yourself of the situation you are in, an affair would ruin your household."

"Ser Mick, I appreciate your worry and your words. Truly. But I must insist that there is nothing beyond the realms of friendship between myself and my Lord. We are aware of our stations and his betrothal."

Ser Mick nodded in response, not in any way convinced.

"Sing us a song, Lady Fianna!" One of the men called out, causing a chorus of 'ayes' to sound around the camp.

"Please, my lords!" Fianna begged with a laugh, "I wouldn't want to deafen your ears with my screeching before you got to hear the screams of King Joffrey when we march on King's Landing."

They all howled with laughter at that, the Northerners were surely getting more comfortable with their Lady around. Having a newfound respect for her.

"Sing that Bua song of yours, if it please m'lady!" Lord Umber called out, hugging a flagon of ale and looking perfectly relaxed. He lifted his flagon to her in encouragement.

"Well," she toyed with them playfully, "who am I to deny the Lords the lyrical genius works of House Bua?"

They all cheered as she stood up, ready to listen intently. The camp had been somber for days in the wake of Ned's death. Robb and Catelyn never joined them to feast, only a song could lighten the spirits of the Northmen this night.

Fianna hadn't realised Robb was approaching to finally join them for the feast, but when he heard she was about to sing for them, he hung back in the shadows. Robb leaned against a tree and crossed his arms over his chest, ready to watch her.

"You have to clap for the song!" She commanded, she wore a fine dress for the feast that evening instead of her usual armour and braid. The silks swayed as she looked around at the men around her, not a sign of insecurity to be seen.

"While in the dead of Summer heat from my home I started,  
Left the girls of Baelfort nearly broken hearted,  
Saluted my dear son and kissed my lady mother,  
Drank enough of ale, my grief and fears to smother

Then off to help the Starks, let them hear a wolfhound's barks,  
Had my chain, my mail, seen the great Moat Cailin,  
And frightened all the fish on the rocky road down south

One, two, three, four, five  
Blood in my hair, blood in my mouth  
All the way down South

Next I reached the South,  
Won a war, got a sore,  
My wife she was up North, so to the whorehouse I rode!

One two three four five  
Blood in my hair, blood in my mouth  
All the way down south!"

When she finished they had been laughing loudly and hollering, cheering at their lady and raising their cups to her. Her cheeks flushed as if she were embarrassed only now, she curtsied dramatically, getting right down to the ground and hollowing in her cheeks - a mock to the manner in which a highborn lady should act. But they only fell into laughter again.

She sat back down, that was when Robb had made his way towards her. He crouched down behind where she was seated and sounded into her ear - lowly so the other Lords wouldn't hear.

"Is that a song a lady should be singing?" He teased, sniggering when she jumped in surprise and turned her head to him. Her cheeks lifted into a smile when she saw who it was.

"A Lady of Baelfort, yes," she lifted her eyebrows at him, in a sultry tone. He rolled his eyes and breathed a laugh before standing tall again.

"Will you walk with me, my lady?" He held his elbow out to her, she nodded her head and stood up, smoothing out her dress and placing her hand on the crook of his elbow.

They were about to walk away from the crowd until they heard a voice call out, "Bring her back in one piece, m'lord! There are songs to be sang!"

"I'll try my hardest, my lord!" Robb called back, letting out a laugh that the rest of the men quickly joined in on, Fianna giggled but her cheeks flushed deeply.

They walked out to the river, standing side by side for a moment and looking out across it. It was dark now, the moonlight being their only source of light.

Riverrun was absolutely breathtaking, Fianna found. It's large walls and the rivers surrounding it made it truly unique, Fianna had never visited the Tully ancestral home before and found she would have difficulty leaving again.

The silence was slightly awkward, yet not as much as it would have been the weeks before.

"I must apologise," he spoke finally, "Fianna. I have been quite absent lately, from my duties and from you."

"It's alright, Robb. I understand, believe me." She turned her head and smiled softly at him, his gaze flicking back and forth between her eyes.

"Where did you learn that song?" He asked, definitely changing the subject. He cleared his throat and looked away from her towards the river.

"When we had a feast at Baelfort, my Lord father always let me attend," she smiled in memory. "To avoid sounding pretentious as much as I possibly can, the other men loved my presence. So they didn't mind if I joined in on the celebrations. They would sing Bua songs and that was often one of them." She reminisced, her eyes falling to her feet.

"Who was the song written for?" He asked curiously.

"My ancestor, Lord Oisin Bua. Oisin was Lord of Baelfort, but he was known to be rather promiscuous. He was only 18 when the Stark lord at the time called his banners for battle. He rode out and fought ferociously, and when they won the war - he went straight to a whorehouse, his army still on and blood on his hair and face."

Robb noticed Fianna loved talking about House Bua. There was no doubt she was proud of her family history and felt tremendous pressure living up to the high standards she believed were set by her predecessors.

"Tell me more of your time at Baelfort, your stories are always interesting."

"Robb, did you really bring me out here to learn of my childhood?" She asked outright. He widened his eyes in surprise before letting out a sigh, shaking his head. Damn Fianna Bua and her inability to be modest.

"I brought you out here because in a time where I don't want to talk with anyone, I find myself still wanting to talk to you."

His words shocked her, she kept her gaze forward, refusing to look at him. Her expression was neutral as she thought over his words, desperately wracking her brain for a reply.

"I am honoured. Friendships are essential in times of sorrow," she babbled. Coming out with the most random thing she could have said. She didn't know what to say in truth, she only knew she had to verbally say the word friendship to emphasise the position they were in.

"Yes, friends," he said monotonously. His gaze had been fixed on the side view of her face, lit up by moonlight. "What do you intend to do after the war, my lady?"

"What do you mean, my lord?" A crease formed between her eyebrows in confusion.

"After the war, do you intend to rule as the Lady of Baelfort alone? Will you find a husband?" Fianna was even more confused now, why was he even asking her this?

"I don't know, my Lord. As you said the first day we met, it's obvious why I don't have one" she teased, her elbow jutting out to hit his ribs playfully. He grinned in amusement.

"You dared to insult my direwolf! With only a dog at your side!" He retaliated.

"A dog that would rip your cock off if I said so!"

"As if that dog would listen to any command _you_ gave him."

They burst into laughter at that, Fianna's head tipping back. When it died down, her lips fell into a small smile, just the corners tipped up.

"I don't know if I'll ever marry, in truth," she admitted, her happy mood dulling visibly. "I know I should provide an heir for Baelfort, but I want Baelfort to remain Bua. If I marry, I will no longer be a Bua. My children will bear my husband's name, their family will now be in control of Baelfort. It's not a situation I want."

"Lady Mormont kept her name, her child I hear bears her name." Robb argued.

"And how many Lords do you imagine would agree to marry me and agree to let their child take their mother's name?"

"I can't imagine a man who wouldn't do anything you asked, my lady." His words made her look up again, making eye contact. The tension suddenly became palpable.

"In an ideal world, I'd meet a man I loved, who loved me in return. Ideally another Lord. I'd bear him two sons, the first heir would rule their father's lands and take his name, the second would bear mine and rule Baelfort." She never took her gaze off Robb as she spoke.

"Perhaps you will, my lady." He spoke, his voice raspier than normal.

"Doubtful," she said, breaking their prolonged eye contact and looking back towards the waters. She slowly started to back away. "I should rest, my Lord."

"As you wish, my lady," he murmured but he doubt she heard him by how swiftly she walked away. "Fianna!" He called, causing her to turn around and stop. "Is... is your chambers in Riverrun worthy?"

"Yes, very much so."

* * *

The next night, Robb was finally ready to discuss their next plan of action. After the feast, he had called for a war meeting to be held. Instead of being held inside a tent as they usually did, Robb called the meeting to be held outside.

The air outside was freezing and Fianna shook with the cold, despite having her cloak draped around her armour. When she exhaled, she could see her breath.

Although it was night, the area was well lit by the surrounding torches - torches as fiery as the Northern lords around her.

They had been discussing who of the three new kings the Stark camp would pledge fealty to - unfortunately they were all Baratheon. Well, discussing was perhaps the wrong word to use, shouting and arguing may have been more appropriate.

Roose Bolton had reformed a small battalion consisting of the remaining men that escaped the clutches of Tywin Lannister, and Lord Walder Frey still held the Twins. Despite this, Tywin still crossed the Trident and was making his way for Harrenhal.

Fianna listened with strained patience as each of the Lords had their say on what they thought their next plan of action would be. Some wanted to throw their full force and take Harrenhal, and some suggested waiting it out at Riverrun. Young Marq Piper even wanted to strike Casterly Rock - Fianna had to hold back a laugh at that. That was the most foolish idea a Northern Lord had spewed yet. Casterly Rock was impenetrable.

"The proper course is clear - pledge fealty to King Renly and move South to join our forces with his," Jonos Bracken spoke out as he stood up. Fianna was uncomfortable with the idea, she couldn't imagine pledging fealty to any King at the moment - especially one with as little claim as Renly had.

"Renly is not the King," Robb replied stubbornly.

"You cannot mean to hold to Joffrey, my Lord," Galbart Glover asked incredulously. "He put your father to death!"

"That makes him evil, but it still doesn't make Renly king," Robb insisted. "He's Robert's youngest brother, now Bran can't be Lord of Winterfell before me - Renly can't be King before Stannis!"

"Lord Stannis has the better claim!" Lady Mormont called from the crowd.

"Stannis Baratheon is a fierce battle commander, and he does have a strong claim.." Fianna mused, voicing her opinion for the first time that night.

"My lady, Renly is crowned," Marq Piper came in again. "Highgarden and Storm's End support his claim-"

"Highgarden and Storm's End have no ties to Winterfell, we need to pledge to a King who will think of the best interests of the North! Has Renly ever even been North of Storm's End?" Fianna cut him off.

"So do we declare for Stannis?" asked Edmure Tully.

"I don't know," Robb said, suddenly looking exhausted. "The Lannisters killed my father for being a traitor, and we know that was a lie, but _if_ Joffrey is the lawful king and we fight against him, we _will_ be traitors."

"I will accept being labelled a traitor any day before I ever bend the knee to a fucking Lannister," Fianna replied loudly, fitting in well with the outspoken Lords surrounding her. She was met with a chorus of 'aye', many others agreeing with her.

"My lord father would urge caution," Ser Stevron, Lord Walder's son suggested. Fianna rolled her eyes quickly which Robb caught, holding in a laugh at the girl's absolute inability to keep her opinions to herself. "Let these two kings play their game of thrones. When they're done fighting, we can bend our knee to the victor. With Renly arming, likely Lord Tywin would welcome a truce-"

"A truce?!" Fianna shouted, standing up suddenly. "We will _never_ accept a deal from Tywin Lannister. I'd sooner die at his sword than appear weak enough to beg for peace!" The Greatjon bellowed his approval at Fianna's words, the other men pounded their fists on the table.

Robb caught Fianna's eye and smiled softly at her, her determination and protectiveness over the North was continuing to surprise him daily. She only nodded in return, not wanting to appear soft in front of the other Lords. Their little moments together where their stony, Lord composures broke was just that - theirs.

"Ransoms be damned! We will not give up the Kingslayer!" Rickard Karstark thundered.

"Perhaps I do not understand tactics and strategy..." Catelyn stood, giving Fianna a stern look before shifting her gaze to meet that of the other Lords. "But I understand futility. We went to war when Lannister armies were ravaging the river lands, and Ned was a prisoner, falsely accused of treason. We fought to defend ourselves and to win my lord's freedom. Well the one is done and the other forever gone. I will mourn Ned for the rest of my days, but now I must think of my daughters - who the queen holds still.

"I want you safe, Robb, ruling at Winterfell, having had the chance to wed a woman and father a son," Catelyn was looking at Robb as she said this, and she did not miss the way his gaze flickered towards Fianna, which caused another stab of guilt at her stomach. She cleared her throat, ignoring it and continued "I want an end to this, my lords. I want to go home, and weep for my husband."

Catelyn sat then, the room having been silenced for the first time that entire day, and looked towards Fianna, who had been sharing a gaze with Robb again.

She realised at that moment, that even though he had pledged himself to marry a Frey girl, his true wife was before him now. Both by the wishes of their fathers and by pure emotion alone.

She wondered at that moment, if when he married the Frey girl, would he always have the Lady of Baelfort on his mind. He hadn't admitted it to her, but she was his mother. And she knew without a doubt, Robb had been falling for her.

An eruption of voices started again, much to Catelyn's dismay. They disagreed fully with her request for peace, save for Lord Blackwood.

They argued with each other once again, until Greatjon Umber lurched to his feet. His next words would seal Robb's fate forever.

"My Lords!" He shouted, "here is what I say to these two kings!" He spat on the ground, causing cheers to erupt. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, nor Stannis neither! Why should they rule over me and mine, from some flowery seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall, or the wolfswood? Even their gods are wrong!" He reached down suddenly, everyone flinching in shock as he pulled his great sword from its sheath. "It was the dragons we bent to, and the dragons are all dead!" Fianna and Catelyn's heart almost stopped when he suddenly pointed his blade towards Robb. "There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to, _THE KING IN THE NORTH!"_

He held his sword straight up then, and the entire council silenced. Fianna could feel her heart thundering in her chest, the atmosphere was absolutely electric.

She didn't even have to debate it, she knew in her heart Robb was the only person she'd ever pledge fealty to. He was young, but he was just. He was fair. He was a warrior.

He was her king.

As Robb stood up slowly, looking to the Greatjon with an unreadable expression, she stood too. She reached behind her shoulder and drew Wolfsbane from the sheath on her back, she held it in one hand by the hilt as she approached Robb to face him head on. His eyes widened at the sight of her.

"I'd sooner lose a leg before I'd bend my knee to a Southern who has no business in the North! My ancestors fought for the Stark Kings, and we never were as strong as when we ruled ourselves!" Her voice carried out across the crowd, filled with as much determination as when she had dragged her attacker out publicly. "From this day, until my last day, you are _my_ King! I will fight for you and I will die for you!" She extended her sword up towards him then, solidifying her speech with her next words. " _THE KING IN THE NORTH!"_

That was all it took, and like the fiery burst of wild fire, the Northern Lords all stood at once, drawing their swords from their scabbards and shouting their words for all the seven kingdoms over to hear.

" _THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH!"_

Robb looked out across the crowd, no longer their lord, but now their King. The rush that filled his body was absolutely indescribable as he heard the words his family was always meant to hear, but were denied of since the times of Aegon the Conqueror.

His eyes met Fianna once again, a breathtaking smile taking over her lips as she shouted the words - which caused a grin to appear on his as well, breaking his composure entirely, as it always seemed to do when she was around.

* * *

 **The King in the North laaaaaads. I wonder will we get a Queen in the North?**

 **This is one of my favourite scenes in Game of Thrones, it gives me tingles every time.**

 **By the way, the song that Fianna sang is basically an Irish song called the Rocky Road to Dublin, I just modified a few words to fit more to the GoT universe. You can look it up if you want to hear what it would sound like!**

 **Thanks so much again to everyone who reviews, favourites, follows or even just read it!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I haven't forgotten about the betrothal don't worry! It will come into play later on in the story, I have a plan for this and for what I have in mind - the betrothal to the Frey girl is unavoidable. Just trust me!**

 **Guest - you have no idea!**

 **Werewolfs-team - thank you! I hope I explained Catelyn's reasoning in this chapter, but honestly she's just kind of mistrustful of Fianna and how outspoken she is. I think the bond between her and Robb scares Catelyn a little and maybe GoT version of Catelyn wouldn't have done this, but I made her kind of selfishly keep the betrothal to herself so that Robb would cross the Twins and join with the Frey men to get Ned back, I doubt Walder Frey would have agreed to a deal without the betrothal. Thanks for reviewing!**

 **Jessie - Everyone did aha! I have a plan for the story and to execute what I want to happen, the betrothal was unavoidable! In this book I portrayed Catelyn as being a little mistrustful of Fianna and her relationship with Robb, as well her just wanting to make the deal with Walder so Robb would have more men and more of a chance of defeating Jaime to get closer to getting Ned and the girls back. But I have a plan! Trust me aha!**

 **Jazybear - Thank you so so much! I'm so glad to hear you like the story and my writing it means the world to me! Yesss I didn't want Fianna to be the typical damsel and I didn't want her to be dependent on Robb to save her, I wanted her to be a warrior in her own right but also kind of vulnerable too in her own way!**

 **L - Just wait till you see what I have planned!**

 **Evangeline Carter - I hope you enjoy! x**


	7. (VI) Red Cheeks

_Song: Beautiful Crime by Tamer_

 _Fianna_

"Stop staring at it," Robb's stern voice jolted her out of the daze she had been in, staring at the crown that rested atop of Robb's auburn curls. She blinked rapidly and sat up straight again.

"I'm sorry, it's just-" she stammered, her eyes narrowing as she studied it again, "very jarring to see you with a crown on your head."

"I imagine it will be more jarring from outside that window, where I will make you go if you don't stop," he teased, looking over from the letter he had been studying to smirk at her.

They had been in Robb's chambers, Fianna casually seated on Robb's bed and Robb at his desk, sifting through his scrolls. It was casual for them to do this, for Fianna to keep him company as he did whatever needed to be done.

Fianna gasped at his words, standing up from the bed, stirring Chroi from his slumber as he had been laying at her feet. She stalked over to her new King, snatching the crown right off of his head.

"Ouch!" He complained, a curl of his catching in it as she ripped it off. She rolled her eyes and reached her hand up, ready to pinch his arm but he caught her by the forearm before she could.

"It's treason to strike your King," he smirked at her again, causing her cheeks to flush for reasons unknown to her.

"You're only King because I decided it!" She replied playfully, tugging at her arm until he let go. "I can undecide just as easily!"

Robb looked down to his letter again, a smile lingering on his lips, while Fianna brought the crown up to her face, studying it intensely.

It wasn't like any other crown any other King would have worn, but it was perfect for a King in the North.

The real crown worn by the Starks hundreds of years ago had been long lost, forced to be handed over to Aegon the Conqueror when Torrhen Stark bent the knee. Therefore a smith at Riverrun had one specially made, closely resembling the original. Or, so they said.

It was made of hammered bronze and iron, metals of the North. The circlet of the crown being bronze which was incised with the runes of the First Men, with nine iron spikes surrounding it - designed to look like long swords.

It had no jewels, but that was much like the North. They weren't interested in the fancier side of things.

Fianna lifted the crown up and gently placed it on the top of her head. It was far too large for her and slipped down slightly.

She stood up straight and crossed her hands in front of her, hollowing in her cheeks and pouting her lips like she always done when she mimicked a highborn.

"Well? Do I look like a queen?" She asked, the twang to her accent, that was specific to the Bua family only, disappearing completely. Robb looked up to her and let out a laugh as he seen the state she was in.

He lifted his hand up and fiddled with the crown until it sat straighter on her head, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

"You look like a King," Fianna was about to grin at his words until he continued, "as in, you have the body of one, of course."

She scoffed, her jaw dropping at his words dramatically. She swiftly reached up and took the crown off her head, tossing it onto the desk with a clang and shot her hands forward, slapping them against his chest.

Robb was too busy laughing to stop her onslaught of slaps, his head fully tilted back as he shook. When his laughter calmed slightly, he reached up and grabbed her forearms again. Using his strength and his grip, he turned her around and crossed her arms in front of her - her back was now against his chest. She wriggled in his grip, huffing loudly as he laughed again.

"It's treason to strike your King!" He repeated his earlier words, letting go of her forearms and wrapping his arms around her middle, he lifted her up. "Now I'll have to toss you out the window for your trial!"

Robb thanked the gods the girl wasn't wearing her armour, for he next lifted her up over his shoulder, her stomach resting on his shoulder and her upper body hanging over his back.

"Robb! Put me down!" She squealed while laughing simultaneously, smacking her fists against his back, which he promptly ignored.

"Nope! I, Robb Stark, King in the North and Lord of Winterfell, sentence you to death!" He wrapped his arms around her legs to hold her steady and began to march towards the window, toying with her.

Chroi shot up and started to bark at the two, jumping up and down animatedly, causing a chuckle from the both of them.

"Chroi it's fine! Robb, you would never! You love me far too much for that!" She cried out.

"Don't be so sure of yourself!" He shot back, reaching his hand up towards the clasp holding the window shut.

Their laughter and his actions were cut off by the loud sound of a door banging shut behind them.

Fianna looked up from Robb's back, her face reddening deeply at the sight of Lady Catelyn. She kept her eyes on the lady as Robb turned, Fianna still over his shoulder.

"Mother.." he said, his voice thick with embarrassment. It was clear by her expression, Catelyn was far from happy by their playful actions.

Robb slowly and carefully lowered Fianna down to her feet. She backed away from him quickly, avoided looking at either of them and headed towards the door, clicking her tongue for Chroi to follow.

"What are you doing in my sons bedchambers, Lady Fianna?" The cold voice of Catelyn Stark caught Fianna in her quick dash to the door. Fianna stopped, and turned slowly to the lady. Despite speaking to Fianna, Catelyn was intently staring at Robb.

Fianna's eyes shifted over and she shared a look with Robb, worry flooding through her before looking back to Catelyn. Fianna crossed her hands in front of her respectfully, and kept her back straight. She fixed her gaze on the floor.

"I must apologise, my lady. Robb and I were only talking, I meant no harm," Fianna explained, her tone quieter than anyone had ever heard from the Northern Lady.

"That's ' _His grace'_ to you, Lady Fianna. In the future, you will not visit my son's bedchambers. You're not a child any more, you know what they will say of your honour if you were caught in here. My son is betrothed, you'd do well to remember that."

Her words caused Fianna's eyes to sting with unshed tears, she felt absolutely humiliated and Lady Catelyn having thrown Robb's betrothal in her face, as if she knew it would hurt the girl, hurt even more.

"I haven't forgotten, my lady," was all Fianna said, in a small voice. Before turning and swiftly walking out from Robb's chambers. Chroi jogged quickly beside her, his tongue out happily - unaware of the situation.

When she reached her own chambers, she flopped down on her bed. And cried.

 _Robb_

"Lady Fianna is a guest of mine, mother. She has been tremendous help to our cause and you will respect her." Robb commanded, approaching his mother slowly after Fianna fled the room. This surprised her. Although he was now King, she never thought he'd speak to her in such a manner.

"Tremendous help to our cause or to you?" She whipped around to face him, the scolding expression she usually had when he was little and was caught doing something she disapproved of, was painted on. "You call what I just said disrespect, yet you let that girl visit your bedchambers and disrespect her honour."

"I never bedded her-"

"And are the others going to think that? Are they going to see you two in your chambers and assume you are discussing the upcoming winter? You are inadvertently disrespecting her honour. You two act like children, you are leading a host at war, Robb. Any childish whims you have now need to be long gone by now."

Robb's anger at his mother diminished at her words, now he felt the fraction of the shame Fianna felt. He recalled at that moment the words spoken by Fianna before, when she assumed he meant to take her for a whore. He saw her actions around him in public differed greatly from how she acted with him in private. Was she trying to preserve her honour?

If there was one thing Robb hated, it was being called a boy. Or a child. His eighteenth name day was approaching, Fianna was seventeen now. His mother had hurt him more than she knew by calling him childish.

Was it childish to let go of his inhibitions around someone he trusted? Perhaps it was their age, perhaps it was their interlinked personalities, but either way - Robb felt the blissful happiness of his childhood in Winterfell when he spent time with Fianna. He found he didn't need to be _Robb the Lord_ , or _King Robb_ around Fianna. He acted however he felt and she never judged him.

When he was with her alone, he didn't want to discuss strategies or plan a battle. He wanted to laugh with her. To tease her, just enough to make her hit him playfully. He cherished those moments more than anyone knew.

His mother may have called it childish, but Robb knew it wasn't that Fianna brought out his inner child, she brought out a happiness in him he hadn't felt since his father departed for King's Landing.

He was forced to grow up too quickly, and so was she.

"You're betrothed, Robb," she continued, noticing the fallen expression on his face. Her tone was softer now, she knew her words were reaching him. "If it's sexual fulfilment you are seeking, find a whorehouse like other men do. You cannot form a bond with another woman if you expect to live a happy marriage."

There was something in her tone, Robb noticed. An underlying hint of force to her words - but Robb was too preoccupied at that moment to question her on it.

"It's not a bond, we're just friends," he insisted, his words felt sour coming from his mouth. Catelyn looked at her eldest son then with a look of pity, she reached up and cupped his cheek.

"No, my dear. You are not."

* * *

 _Fianna_

Later that day, they had been gathered in a tent for another council meeting. Fianna wished beyond hope that she didn't have to go but it was duty, and she was mature enough to not let the earlier events stop her from attending.

Rather unusual for the two, Robb and Fianna sat far from the other. Neither one of them questioned themselves why, it was pretty clear. But of course the other lords knew nothing, and looked back and forth between the two with amusement.

Robb had demanded one of the Lannister captives, a distant cousin to the Kingslayer, be brought to the meeting, two guards entered the tent with the young man in arm.

"You're Ser Alton Lannister?" Robb asked, the boy looked around the tent with nervous eyes, his eyes met Fianna briefly and widened when he seen her. Fianna knew at that moment the craven would do whatever was asked of him.

"I am, your grace," he spoke breathlessly, probably expecting to be beheaded, shifting his gaze back to Robb. But the Starks weren't known for their unjust killings, something they couldn't say for the Lannisters.

"I offer your cousin's peace if they meet my terms," at his words, Fianna's eyebrows furrowed. She looked back to Robb, annoyance starting to fill her. Since when had he decided to try for peace with the Lannisters? "First, your family must release my sisters. Second, my father's bones must be returned to us so that he may rest beside his brother and sister in the crypts beneath Winterfell. And the remains of all those who died in his service must be returned also."

Fianna shook her head softly, disagreeing completely but not daring to voice her opinion, for once. She couldn't disrespect Robb in front of his other Lords and the Lannister.

But if it had been her father, she'd ruin Westeros seven times over to fulfil her revenge.

"An honourable request, your Grace," Ser Alton replied, obviously trying to gain his favour.

"Third-" Robb cut him off, "Joffrey and the Queen Regent must renounce all claim to the dominion of the North. From this time, until the end of time, we are a free and independent kingdom."

 _Ah,_ Fianna thought. Robb hadn't turned soft after all, he was simply taunting. He knew that the Lannisters would never agree to his terms, he was simply making his intentions clear.

Alton looked at him wide eyed, while the other Lords at the table called out a chorus of " _The King in the North_!". Fianna didn't join in.

"Neither Joffrey nor any of his men shall set foot in our lands again," Robb continued. "If he disregards this command, he shall suffer the same fate as my father." Robb threatened, before leaning in to talk close to Ser Alton's ear in a deadly tone. "Only I don't need a servant to do my beheading for me."

Fianna felt goosebumps on her arms at his words.

Alton stuttered in reply, clearly shocked that Robb would dare ask such things - there was no chance of ever achieving them. Or so he thought.

"These are my terms. If the Queen Regent and her son meet them, I'll give them peace. If not, I'll litter the south with Lannister dead."

"King Joffrey is a Baratheon, your grace," Alton replied in confusion, to which Fianna snorted at. Fool. Clearly he hadn't gotten word of Stannis Baratheon's declaration.

Fianna was the first to leave the tent afterward, departing towards the main hall to eat. Robb hadn't joined the others to feast, so after two horns of ale she had finally plucked up the courage to confront Robb.

She made her way towards the tent they held meetings in, and faltered when she noticed Lady Catelyn exiting it. Fianna held her breath, swiftly moving to hide to the side of the tent, safely out of her vision.

Fianna felt like a fool for it, but she wasn't ready to deal with any harsh words Lady Catelyn would have for her.

When she peeked around and seen that the coast was clear, Fianna entered the tent.

Robb had been gazing at his map again, but little did she know he had been thinking of her. Thinking of her strategic mind and wishing he was half as equipped.

He was pressured from all sides on his next move. With Theon heading to convince his father to give ships to their cause, and now his mother heading for Renly Baratheon, he knew he couldn't stay safely at Riverrun any more.

They had to continue their movement onwards, and besides, he was itching for the excitement of another battle.

"Your grace," Fianna's voice called out, causing his head to snap up. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Fianna... you don't need to call me that, what are you doing?" He asked, standing up and making his way towards her. When he passed an invisible line that Fianna had deemed too close, she held her hand up to keep him back.

"Your grace, I've come to tell you that I am sorry for my actions around you. You are my king and I, your subject." Her tone was cold and distant.

"Fianna, if this is about what my mother said-" Robb sighed with guilt, "she doesn't know us, okay? All she sees is a man and woman getting close when one of them is betrothed, and then thinks the worst."

"Does she? Does she think the worst? Is that truly what you believe that our behaviour has been typical of friends and not in any way suggestive?" She snapped at him finally, ready to unleash at him all of her innermost thoughts.

"I don't know what you want me to say, Fianna," Robb's expression froze, holding her eye contact head on.

"It's _my lady,"_ she corrected. "We have behaved like children and we are at war. This is no place for children. I will not overstep my boundary again and I would ask the same of you."

"Fianna, please don't do this," Robb begged, reaching out to grab her forearms to hold her still.

"It's _MY LADY!"_ She shouted suddenly, her face reddening as she dropped their eye contact and struggled against his grip. He dropped her arms instead and cupped her cheeks.

"Don't give up on me, please. You're all I have here. You're the only one I can trust," she was shocked to see the emotional expression on his face, it only made her hate herself even more. But this was necessary and unavoidable.

"You ask too much of me, you are to be wed!" She protested, horrified as she felt tears well in her eyes. His hold on her cheeks forced her to look at him and she knew he noticed.

"I don't care-" he started before Fianna cut him off.

"No. Don't you dare say that. If you finish that sentence then you will have sealed our fates forever. You made a deal, Robb. I can't ever be anything to you, I have myself and my household to think about." Tears started to spill over and rush down Fianna's cheeks, hitting against Robb's fingers.

"Just tell me one thing, please," he begged, resting his forehead against hers. "If I wasn't betrothed, and I was a free man, would you love me freely and take me as I am?"

She shook her head frantically, trying to get out of answering.

"You can't expect me to answer that!" Her voice was hoarse with emotion as one of her hands reached up to hold onto Robb's forearm.

"Fianna, please I need to know!" He begged, desperately looking back and forth between her wet eyes.

"And what then? You live the rest of your life, looking at me everyday like I'm just some lady who fawns over you?" His thumb wiped away the tears under her eyes, his fingers slipping into her hair to hold her head firmly.

"No, so then I could know if the feeling is mutual."

Fianna inhaled sharply at that, their connected gaze spoke volumes and her heart began to hammer in her chest. It reminded her of the stampede of horse hooves before a battle.

She let her forehead rest on his, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, the two of them drinking in each other and trying ever so hard not to just give in and kiss. She slipped her hands up to cup around his neck.

When she finally opened her eyes, they screamed that she was troubled by an inner turmoil. She forced a soft smile on her lips before nodding her head ever so slightly.

"Yes," she admitted breathlessly, before slowly sliding her hands off of his chest, moving back so his hands fell off of her and retreating from the tent.

Robb stood there in shock for a moment, unable to move. She had felt the same as he had this whole time, and he was unable to do anything about it. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

* * *

 _Theon_

"I have made my plans, it is time you heard them," his father's rough voice cut across the room, demanding attention from its occupants.

"I had some suggestions-" Theon began. He knew the North, he had been in the centre of it for 10 years. He had hoped to be able to impress his father by supplying him with knowledge that would be fundamental to his plans. Surely they would listen to him, he had been a man on the inside.

"When I require your counsel, I shall ask for it," Balon replied in a dry tone, shutting Theon down completely. "Dagmer is bringing the Drumms and Stonehouses. You will strike the first blow, and sail when they arrive, Theon. You shall take eight longships north-"

" _Eight_?" Theon sputtered in surprise. "What can I hope to accomplish with only eight longships?"

"You will raid the fishing villages and sink any ships you meet. It may be that you will draw some of the Northern lords from behind their stone walls." Balon replied uninterested. He didn't care much for what Theon did, he wouldn't be involved in the most important plan.

Humiliation filled Theon, his father had given him a job unworthy for the Prince of the Iron Islands and hadn't even entrusted him to do it alone, hence why he was to be joined by Dagmer Cleftjaw.

"Yara , my daughter," he continued, shifting his attention to Theon's sister, "you shall take thirty long ships of picked men and land on Deepwood Motte. March quickly and the castle will fall before they even know you're upon them."

Pure anger filled Theon then. He knew the Glover stronghold, he had visited there several times. And now his sister was to be the one to take it.

Deepwood Motte _would_ be lightly held, with Robett and Galbart warring in the South with Robb.

Theon wracked his brains, going over and over the knowledge he had of the Northern houses to find something to interject until suddenly, an idea struck him.

"Father, I have a suggestion-"

"I have no interest in it." He replied not even giving his son a glance.

"Believe me, you'll want to hear it." Theon insisted stubbornly, until Balon grunted and held a hand out to signal Theon to continue.

"I don't think we should take Deepwood Motte-" Theon's frustration began to build when he was cut off again.

"Are you a fool boy? Is this the Stark's influence on you that you feel defensive of these Northern lords?" Balon accused in absolute disgust.

"No, father. I have a better solution!" Theon said in an exasperated tone, holding his patience. Balon silenced then, looking to his son with a frankly bored expression.

"The Glovers are one of the highest born houses in the North, they'll be lightly guarded with their Lord gone but they'll still have left behind a larger number of men than a certain other house. A house, I think you'll find, that would prove to be a better stronghold as our base in the North."

"Out with it then, boy."

"Baelfort. It's a castle under the rule of House Bua, the lady of the house is fighting alongside Robb Stark. It's next to the Long Lake, and closer to Winterfell than Deepwood Motte. The White Knife river runs from it, and the Kingsroad next to it. To fight from Deepwood Motte we'd have to travel through the Wolfswood."

Balon's voice didn't show whether he approved or disapproved, his tone was much the same as when he had always spoken to Theon, "I know what a map looks like, boy."

Theon stayed silent after that, assuming his words would fall on deaf ears and be shot down immediately. His head perked up at his father's next words.

"And this Baelfort will be lightly guarded?" He enquired, to which Theon nodded his head quickly.

"Bua is a smaller house than the Glovers, I'd say there would only be two hundred in total defending the castle."

Theon's heart soared when his father turned his head to Yara and nodded once.

For the first time since arriving to the iron islands, he had felt something that looked like hope for their relationship.

"I've always wanted a castle," Yara said cockily.

* * *

 **This was kind of a filler chapter for future events, but there was a still a bit of action to wet your whistle!**

 **So Fianna and Robb finally admit they fancy each other eh?**

 **If I was a nice person I'd have just let them go ahead and snog, but I'm too cruel to let it happen that easily!**

 **Anyways thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, favourited and read this, I hope you enjoyed!**

 **Otakugirl1996- yessss trust me! I have this entire story planned out there's a method to my madness!**

 **Jazybear- Like I said I'm too cruel to let them kiss in this chapter, but maybe soon ;) xx**

 **Jessie- I loved that scene so much too! I feel like they can really connect over their shared grief so that's why I had to prolong Robb's suffering a bit, far longer than it had been in the books and show to make it more realistic and give Fianna a chance to comfort him! Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it and I hope you continue to like it! x**

 **fallondyson- here you go ahah! x**


	8. (VII) Marking Territories

_Song: Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes_

 _Tiernan_

"We need to increase the food supply to twice the amount it is now, we've been cut off from the imports from the South because of the war, and with winter coming we need to start stocking up," Tiernan Brady commanded, which he received a respectful nod and departure in response.

He would never get used to that, he speculated. It had been months since Fianna's departure, and being the appointed Lord in her absence, Tiernan still wasn't accustomed to the new accommodations he was granted with due to his position.

He wasn't necessarily from a poorer background, rather from a poorer name.

His mother had been a Bua, tall and strong and she bore the name with pride until it came to the day she met Tiernan's father. It had been the truest of loves, she always swore to him before he slept each night.

His father, may the gods rest his soul, died fighting valiantly in Robert's Rebellion. He was from a lowborn family, but a family pledged to serve the Buas none the less. So when the war began, they too were called upon to join it under Cillian Bua's command.

His mother, Bronagh, had fallen in love with the man, although marriage had been offered to her by Robett Glover, a higher ranking and more suitable match.

Robett was old and a widower, and Cillian did not try to force her to marry the lord. There was no persuading Bronagh Bua to do anything, much like Fianna in that respect.

It had been a small insult to Lord Glover when Bronagh married the lowborn Nicholas Brady, despite her insistence that they had married for love, that titles bore no heed to her.

Tiernan had only been a babe at the time, so the wound of losing his father had been no love lost on his behalf. He was often told though, from his uncle Cillian, that Bronagh had never been the same since the loss of Nicholas. That there had been a light in her that died when he did.

Out of familial loyalty and respect for Nicholas who died for the rebellion, Cillian had insisted his sister and nephew stay at Baelfort - so that Fianna and Tiernan could grow together and that they would be safe and well protected. Especially since Bronagh had no intentions of ever marrying again.

Because he wasn't a Bua, he wasn't treated with the respect Fianna had from a young age - and that, for a while anyway, made him resent her deeply.

But that was years ago, and Tiernan had grown to love her again like a sister he was raised with.

Much like Fianna had been desperate to prove herself at war, Tiernan had been desperate to prove himself here at Baelfort - prove that he was a worthy leader and to repay House Bua for the many luxuries they _had_ gifted him with.

Tiernan never saw himself as a Brady anyway. And in the dead of night, as a child, he would pray to the gods that they would somehow make him a Bua instead. He felt more of a Bua, anyway.

Tiernan had now been crossing the small courtyard at Baelfort, making his way towards the library when he heard it.

The sound tore through the peaceful air, jolting his body in shock. He could nearly swear it was so loud that the still waters of Long Lake shook like the waves of the sea.

His expression twisted in confusion, half expecting it to be Fianna returning from war. But he was no fool, and that thought diminished rather quickly when he realised that these were no welcoming sounds.

They were the horns sounded before a battle.

Immediately, he raced towards the gate and peered through a square opening in it, gazing out to find the source of the intrusion.

His blood turned to ice as his eyes fixed upon the army that were perfectly aligned, some several hundred feet from the gate.

He backed away, stumbling slightly and raced to the empty guard tower. He cursed to himself, vowing to punish whoever was supposed to be on duty at this time that had abandoned their post. He climbed the ladder faster than he ever approached any task in his life, and raced to the edge to peer out.

His eyes followed the seemingly never ending line of infantry, turning in a complete circle.

They were surrounded on three sides, and the fourth was met with a lake of water.

Tiernan took all of two seconds before he raced back down the ladder, jumping off completely when he reached midway and dropping to the ground with the grunt.

He immediately began to bark orders "Archers! Go to your posts and nock those bloody arrows! The rest of you, to the front gate!"

Tiernan rushed up the guard tower again, standing up straight as he tried to catch his breath. He placed his hands on the back of his head in distress as he gazed out upon the forces that would surely infiltrate their castle the second their leader had commanded.

For now, though, they stood still. Awaiting orders and instilling fear in the occupants of Baelfort.

His eyes narrowed as he tried to recognise the symbol on the banner.

"Think, Tiernan," he scolded himself, "what the fuck is on that banner?!"

He barely noticed when the guard that was supposed to be manning the tower had climbed the ladder again.

"My lord, why are House Greyjoy attacking us?!" That's when it clicked, this was the Greyjoys.

Why they would invade Baelfort, he did not know. Why they would be invading anyone after the abject failure of Balon's rebellion, he also did not know.

He turned swiftly to the guard and gripped him by the shoulder, the young man was hyperventilating with panic.

"We need to get word to Lady Fianna, she needs to bring the men back here to defend the castle we have a mere 200 here and those fuckers have got at least a thousand." Tiernan demanded with a loud voice, smacking the man lightly on the face to get him to waken and listen to his words.

"S-so what do we do? Send a raven?" He stammered.

"A fucking raven, are you a fool? Do you not see the army surrounding us that would shoot a squirrel if they thought it could have been on its way to Riverrun?"

"Then what do we do?!" He shouted back at his Lord, the panic being taken over by anger.

"They have us surrounded on all sides, but one," Tiernan explained, pointing to the Western wall where Long Lake sat on the other side.

He began to shove the lad towards the ladder and encouraging him to descend it, when they reached the bottom he half dragged him over to the wall.

Tiernan marched parallel to the wall until he came to a line in the stone, only visible to those who were close to it. Tiernan pushed with all his strength against it, until a square section of the wall began to open out, the lake water suddenly in view.

"Swim through that fucking Lake and run like a mad man to House Lemmings, it'll be a half hour if you sprint and for fuck sakes don't get caught." Tiernan shouted at the boy and half shoved him through the entrance.

"W-wait wait! What do I do when I get there?!" He stammered, nervous again and soaked before he even got to swim in the water, with sweat.

"You send a raven to that Fianna and you tell her to bring her arse back to Baelfort with her men _immediately!_ " And with one final shove, he pushed the lad until he fell back into the water.

The man, who's name was Garrett, lay in the shallow pool of water for a moment in pure shock. The sound of shouts broke his shock as he heard the stampede of feet. The Greyjoys had begun their assault on Baelfort.

So he turned and dived underwater, wading through it until the water got deep enough to hide his tawny body. He swam like he had never swam before, swam until his muscles and lungs screamed at him and when he finally reached the other side, he didn't stop there. He then started to sprint towards House Lemming, muttering under his breath a prayer to the countless old gods.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The last time they had spoken had been in the tent that night, a whole month ago, when they had finally admitted their true feelings. There was an unspoken agreement there, that they couldn't become close again after that.

It was just too much pain for the both to bear.

So Fianna attended the war council meetings. She voiced her opinion when she felt it was necessary. She ate her meals with her own men and Ser Mick, when she had free time she spent it training and playing with Chroi. She tried to occupy herself at all times, because when she wasn't occupied, she could think of him.

And she definitely didn't want to think of him.

He seemed colder now, more so than usual. He never smiled now, not one that she had ever seen anyway.

Robb had grown restless at Riverrun, he hated waiting like cravens behind its stone walls. With Stafford Lannister assembling a host in the west, Robb intended to march and obliterate it before it had the chance to fully form.

They were a day away from marching when the maester at Riverrun had approached her.

Fianna had been sparring in the yard with Ser Mick, she held her own against him, but she wanted to further strengthen her sword fighting skills before the journey ahead. The camp was a bustle around them as everyone was preparing to pack up and move.

"Lady Fianna!" The aged maester called out, slowly making his way towards her. She turned at his call, and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She jumped at the cool feeling of Ser Mick's blade at her throat.

"That hardly counts, Ser Mick! We were interrupted!" She protested with a laugh, stomping her foot childishly.

"Never take your eyes off your enemy!"

She rolled her eyes at him with an easy smile before walking forward to meet the maester in his track.

"It's a sealed scroll, it has been sent for you, my lady," he lifted his wrinkled, spotted hand out to her, extending his palm and showing the tightly wound scroll inside it.

Fianna's eyes squinted as she saw the scroll bearing the sigil of House Lemming.

She plucked the scroll out of his hand and thanked the maester kindly, who retreated then back inside.

Fianna broke the seal gently, and carefully rolled out the paper in her hands.

Ser Mick watched as his Lady's nostrils flared at what she had been reading, her jaw set and she looked up from the scroll. She stared ahead at nothing in particular, taking audible breaths through her nose to calm down. All unmistakeable signs that Fianna Bua was extremely pissed off.

"My lady? Are you alright?" She whipped her head around to look at him, so fast it almost startled him. She was silent for a moment, deep in thought before she turned and marched towards the camp.

"No I'm fucking not!" She shouted back in reply, her braid swishing behind her from how fast she was walking.

Fianna headed straight towards the council tent and burst in, there hadn't been an official meeting called, but often the Lords would gather in here anyways during the day.

This would be the place to look for Robb.

She roughly pushed open the tent flaps and stepped inside, her eyes immediately fixing on her King.

For the first time in a month, he met her gaze.

"All of you, except _his grace_ ," she drawled sarcastically, "get out," she demanded in a deadly tone, not lifting her eyes from Robb's.

"Since when do I take orders from-" Greatjon began to protest, so she reached her hands down and wrapped them around the edge of the table, completely flipping it over and causing the map and pawns and to fall off in the process.

" _GET THE FUCK OUT!"_ She screamed at the top of her voice, immediately causing them to scramble out, intending on keeping their limbs intact today.

Robb kept his expression neutral, he knew enough of Fianna's anger now that it was best not to stoke the fire.

"Robb Stark," she began, panting slightly, "you are a fucking _fool_!"

He was taken aback at that, instantly going over in his head all of his recent actions, particularly any that could have offended Fianna.

"My lady, why don't you tell me what the problem is?" He said formally, not moving an inch.

"The problem?!" She marched forward to the chair he was seated at, bending down low so they could be eye level, she lifted a small scroll up between their faces. "Read that, and tell me if it's a problem."

Robb, without hesitation, took the scroll and unravelled it. He gulped as soon as he read it, a number of emotions flooding through him. Anger being the most prominent.

"Theon has betrayed us?" His stony expression broke, letting the hurt of the betrayal shine through.

"Betrayed? There are Greyjoy forces at Baelfort. Never, ever has Baelfort been taken under siege and now those fucking _fishy cunts_ are about to slaughter my people and claim _my home_ as their own!" She ranted, pacing back and forth over the expanse of the room.

"Fianna, I swear to you I had no idea that this would happen-" he began, feeling absolutely stupid at that moment. He couldn't help the blame he placed on himself, because it wasn't misplaced. He had been played a fool.

"Had you not?! Tell me, _Robb,"_ his name, that had once sounded so sweet coming from her mouth, was no filled with anger and disgust, "what did you expect to happen when you handed Balon Greyjoy back his heir, the heir that you kept as a ward so he _wouldn't_ do something like this?"

"Theon has been a brother to me for 10 years, perhaps Balon is forcing this on, perhaps Theon isn't involved-" Fianna cut him off again.

"I'll tell you who's involved when I remove their heads and place it on the gates of Baelfort," the sound of her voice decreased, but somehow her words sounded more frightening spoke in a monotone voice than when she had been shouting.

"Fianna.." Robb began, looking down at the scroll in his hands again. He'd give anything to avoid saying what he was going to say but it simply wasn't an option.

"No, Robb. Don't you sit there and tell me that I won't be permitted to take my men back and march to Baelfort at once."

"I can't allow it, Fianna. We need the Bua men, we're marching for battle again and we need as much men as we can... and we need you," he added at the end in a small voice. She shook her head quickly, her eyes watering up again from the pent up anger.

"If Baelfort falls I will never forgive you! You will lose my men and you will lose me! Hang me for an oathbreaker all you want, I couldn't give a damn about my oaths if I lose my family home." Robb stood up and approached her, the tension rising between them.

"Fianna, you know that I can't let you do this and you know why! I can send ravens for the remaining men in other houses to help Baelfort, but you can't leave!" He tried to mediate with her. But as they said, there is no persuading a Bua woman.

"As if the other houses will lose the very little protection they have on their homes to defend mine," she scoffed, looking up to the roof of her tent and desperately taking in deep breaths to calm down.

"Alright, I will grant leave to 700 Bua men to return to Baelfort to end the siege, but I can't let you leave," he said in a final tone.

"You _can't let me leave_? Not a chance in hell! I will be marching _all_ of my host home and I will be leading them to Baelfort and taking it back _myself!"_ Robb threw away his inhibitions for a moment and reached forward, grabbing her cheeks and forcing her to listen to him.

"For the gods sake Fianna listen to me," he said desperately, finding themselves in a similar position to a month before, "I _cant_ lose you!"

She couldn't reply to that, her mouth falling open and closed as she struggled to form a response. Eventually she sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.

"I promise you, if I lose Baelfort you will lose me anyway," she promised, pulling his hands down from her cheeks. He scraped his hands through his hair, his nails digging into his scalp as he looked down to the ground.

"Alright, I will let you leave with the full Bua host, and 200 men of my own. You will leave now, and return the second the siege has ended to reconcile with the vanguard. Alright?"

Fianna couldn't hold herself back, she flung herself forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, jumping slightly so she could bury her face into his neck. He immediately responded and wrapped his arms around her.

"Fianna.. promise me, you'll come back." He begged quietly, clutching her tighter.

She pulled back slightly to look at his face, so close to his that their breaths mixed together.

"I will. But you have to, as well. Come back to me, Robb." She whispered, leaning her forehead against his and screwing her eyes shut.

"I will. I promise," he vowed before slowly letting go of her. "Now go, my little warrior."

She stayed for a moment longer, before detaching from him entirely, turning around and marching from the tent. As much as he wished she would, she never looked back once.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

It had been half a week since Baelfort had fallen. Although Tiernan didn't know that. He was locked in the cells beneath the castle and couldn't distinguish night from day any more.

The siege lasted a total of two days, before the Greyjoy forces made it through the gates and obliterated the Bua forces.

Tiernan could only listen to the screams of his men burning alive, being slaughtered mercilessly, children screaming in fear and the cheers and jests of the Greyjoy men.

The host had been led by a woman, he realised by the end of the first day. She was obviously their commander, running along the frontline and shouting words that would induce anger from the men, fuelling their need to infiltrate the castle.

Tiernan added his own voice to the screams, shouting endlessly all night long, threatening the Greyjoys and guaranteeing revenge.

After four days, when all had calmed and the only noises to be heard was the laughter of the Greyjoy men and Tiernan's occasional shouts, it started again.

Where there was laughter, now there was bloodcurdling screams of agony. He didn't know who was battling it out upstairs, but he could hazard a guess. Fianna.

 _Fianna_

"My lady, they have four scouts surrounding Baelfort to watch for an attack, one who walks around the lake, three who walk in the woods close to the Baelfort walls," Fianna nodded her head once at her scout's update.

"Alright, you know the plan, I want the one hundred, one to every tree, in the trees closest to Baelfort, if you see a scout, shoot him before he spots you," Fianna commanded to Ser Mick, who was in charge of the infantry selected for the wood attack.

Fianna was to take the rest of her men and attack Baelfort head on, after those in the trees took out as much as they could. They would later join the advance when there were no more targets to scope.

As Fianna crept through the trees, the rest of her force slowly moved forward until the entire tree line surrounding Baelfort was about to be flooded with Bua men.

Fianna held her hand up to stop the men who were behind her as she spotted a scout over the small hill, she waited until he moved forward slightly, her vision obscured by the lack of light at night. But the night would prove advantageous to them. She used her lighter figure to silently approach him from behind, lifting a dagger from a sheath on her thigh and burying it into the scout's neck.

Her knife tore through his vocal chords to prevent him screaming, as he lay in Fianna's arms choking on his blood, she signalled with her head for the rest of them to move up again.

Fianna looked up to see Ser Mick clambering down from the trees, he whispered quietly to her when he reached the forest floor.

"They have sentries on the castle walls, not nearly enough. They aren't expecting us," she nodded her head, not daring to smile at the words. She wouldn't smile until Baelfort was back in her grasp.

"Give them the signal to nock their arrows, at my signal, let loose on their archers and any sentries you can see," she commanded in a low tone, crouching down again to avoid being seen.

Ser Mick nodded his head and climbed up the rough, wooden bark again. He quickly signalled to the men nearest to him the command, and they signalled to their surrounded men and on it went until everyone in the trees were ready.

Fianna readied herself, said a silent prayer before letting out a loud scream, loud enough for them all to hear, " _LOOSE!"_

A flurry of arrows went sailing towards the archers at the castle, embedding in their arms, stomach, chest and necks.

Wasting no time, Fianna let out a cry of " _Baelfort!"_ and sprinted towards the castle, the rest of her men calling out the same.

They were on foot this time, leaving their horses tied to trees way further back.

Multiple hooks were thrown atop the wall in between the ridges, a parade of men immediately flying up the rope.

As the Greyjoy forces moved to push back the Bua men, rushing up the ladders to the top of the walls and reaching out to grip the hooks in an attempt to push the hook back over the wall, they let go immediately upon noticing a sticky substance coated on the metal.

They stumbled back in shock, staring at the substance with a slight fear at its mystery. As the first Bua man finally made it over the wall, he smirked a wolfish grin as the men lay coughing on the wooden deck.

"How'd you like that wolf's bane?" He let out a laugh, wiggling his fingers at the men and showing off the gloves protecting them.

They didn't kill the Greyjoy men there, a slow death would be coming for them. They didn't need to do anything.

As the men scoured over the walls, slicing their way through the lone Greyjoys left alone on the top of the wall, they immediately raced over to the chains that would pull open the gate.

The gate slowly started to recede up, the vision of Fianna and the remaining forces appearing to those inside, not including those who were in the trees.

They immediately burst into the courtyard, cutting their way through the Greyjoys. It was clear they weren't expecting an attack, they were in no way co-ordinated or ready.

Fianna lifted her longsword through the air, meeting skin on the other end almost every time. Her muscles ached with the weight of her sword but the adrenaline and need to reclaim her home soothed it.

As Fianna's men flooded through Baelfort, seeking out any remaining Greyjoy soldiers from every corner of the stronghold, she stopped to drink in the sight around her.

Her home, that was once so welcoming and lively, was now plastered with blood, both of her men and her own, and her men from a week ago she was sure. Her heart ached at the sight, the fuckers had even hung some of her men that were here while she was at Robb's camp. Their deceased bodies now hung from the walls, rotting and serving as food for the crows and flies.

Her attention was brought back to the battle around her as a new flurry of Greyjoy forces burst out of the tower where her chambers and her father's solar had been.

A woman led them, she was surprised to find, wielding a sword and fixing her sight on Fianna.

Fianna realised then, this was their commander, the person behind the siege. She could tell by the fierce loyalty radiating off of the men she stood in front of.

Fianna's expression hardened at this, and with her long sword in both hands, she set forth, ready to meet the girl head on.

Yara Greyjoy, filled with anger and humiliation as her short reign of Baelfort was coming to an end, set forth to meet Fianna - knowing all too well this was the Lady of the castle.

Fianna couldn't hold herself back, the second she was within distance of Yara, she lifted her sword and wailed it through the air, but Yara had lifted hers and met Fianna's head on.

Fianna took her sword away from Yara's and swung again, this time nicking her on the arm, eliciting a yelp from the older girl.

The Greyjoy girl retaliated and dropped her sword, rushing quickly forward and slamming her body against Fianna's, the momentum crashing them both to the floor.

Yara threw her fist at Fianna's cheek, she could feel the skin splitting open underneath her knuckles. Fianna hit back, throwing up her own fist and undercutting Yara by the jaw. Yara's head flew back and Fianna used this to flip her over to be the one on top now.

Fianna gripped Yara by the shoulders and flew her own forehead down to knock _hard_ against hers. She then sat up, resting on top of Yara's stomach before she used her fists and started to beat at the girl's face.

Fianna started to grunt with each punch, her knuckles on fire and her breathing shallowed. In her mind, she was right back to that tent a few weeks ago, fighting off her attacker in a white, hot, blinding fit of rage.

When Yara finally became unconscious after Fianna lifted her head and smacked it against the ground, Fianna stopped her onslaught. She sat there for a moment, panting to catch her breath. She lifted her bloodied and bruised knuckles up to her cheek, hissing at the cut that was close to her eye socket.

She stood up shakily, looking around her again.

It was over. Baelfort was hers.

She beckoned over a few soldiers and motioned towards Yara, "lock her up in the cells."

"Fianna!" A familiar voice called out, she turned swiftly and her expression crumpled upon seeing her cousin.

Fianna ran forward to meet him, collapsing into his arms, the two clutching each other tightly.

"Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, scanning his face for any sign of abuse. It was clear there had been, judging by the cuts and swollen bruises covering his face.

"Thank the fucking _Gods_ you're here," he gushed, dropping his arms from her and looking around again, "Fianna, I- I'm so sorry.. I know you trusted me with Baelfort but we were so outnumbered. I held them off for as long as I could-" Fianna held a hand up to silence him, a soft smile on her lips.

"I understand, Tiernan. It is not your fault, Baelfort has never been taken under siege who could have thought?"

Tiernan only nodded in response and hugged her again.

* * *

They had a feast the next night, to celebrate Fianna's victory. She knew she should be getting back to Robb, but she was in dire need of rest after travelling for a week, and her body ached from the battle.

Aside from that, she loved to be home again and was in no hurry to leave it.

" _For Fianna_!" The men would shout and then throw their horns of ale in the air, before sinking down the drink quickly.

" _For the Queen in the North_!" One man had shouted, to which the entire party looked to him in shock, silencing immediately. The man flushed red in embarrassment, as did Fianna.

"Tell me, cousin, what is it like? At war with the big Lords?" Tiernan asked happily, all too happy to be back at the head of the table in the great hall and out of a cell.

"Fucking horrible, Tiernan," Fianna laughed off, shaking her head softly.

"Meet any men down there for you to marry yourself to?" Fianna's eyes darted away after his question, widening slightly. She reached and took another sip of her drink, which Tiernan didn't miss. "By the Gods, you _have_!"

"It's not as simple as all that!" She protested, shaking her head quickly causing her hair to flow around her shoulders.

"Well then what's the simple version?"

"He's-... he-" she stammered. "He's betrothed to be wed, Tiernan," she admitted finally, with a sigh. Tiernan's smile was sympathetic as he nodded in understanding.

"Betrothals aren't marriages, Fianna. They can be broken," he tried to reason.

"Not this one," she shook her head, looking at the men around her as they happily celebrated.

"Oh well, who needs men anyway?" He shrugged off with a grin, trying to make her laugh. She giggled in response and gestured with her head towards his torso and obvious lack of breasts.

"But, you know, if it's meant to be who's to say it won't? Look at my mother and father, she was meant to marry a Glover and look how that turned out!" Tiernan's words brought her hopes up ever so slightly.

"So what are you saying I should do?"

"Honestly, Fianna, go for it."

* * *

 **Mama's home!**

 **Just for now, don't worry. She can't be gone from Robb for too long.**

 **I hope you liked this chapter! I'm shit at writing battle scenes, and I hope you liked Tiernan too!**

 **Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favourited and reviewed it means the world to me! x**

 **Otakugirl1996 - yeah Catelyn really isn't that nice in this book! Sorry to any Cat lovers out there but let's be honest she didn't make the best decisions now did she? I hope you liked this chapter x**

 **Werewolfs-team - I know right? Fucking hell Theon! I know it's torture it's even torturing me and I'm the one writing it! Thank you so so much! xx**

 **reaganrose1315 - I think George RR Martin has rubbed off on me and I have to make this book as cruel as possible haha! I hope you enjoyed this one x**

 **Guest - Catelyn is** _ **extremely**_ **frustrating but honestly I think this is how the books/show Catelyn would act too, to not care about Fianna and her betrothal to her son so that the Freys would give men to Robb's army, and therefore eventually get her daughters back. It's very selfish really!**

 **Jessie - I'm glad to hear you still found it interesting even though I considered it a filler! I hope you enjoyed this one xx**

 **asdfghjklerica - Yes! You got EXACTLY what I was trying to portray! Robb and Fianna really are just kids and they have such a bond with each other that around each other they get to just act their age and not act like seasoned war commanders, I'm glad you love their chemistry too! I won't give too much away but I have a plan for the story and I think you'll like it! Well I hope you do anyway! Thanks so much for your review! xx**


	9. (VIII) Caution to the (Grey) Wind

_Song: Take Me Home by Jess Glynne_

 _Fianna_

The clack of her boots sounded out across the dead hallway as she made her way through the prison cells beneath Baelfort. It wasn't a place she had visited often throughout her life.

She had awoken early that morning, to prepare herself and her host for the long ride to Robb's camp. Fianna knew that Robb was headed for Stafford Lannister's camp and didn't want to miss out on that fight.

When she reached the cell that occupied the prisoner, the only one she left alive when Fianna Bua came back to reclaim Baelfort, she unsheathed her sword and started to bang the metal against the bars of the cell to wake the prisoner up. The noise was ear-splitting.

Yara Greyjoy awoke instantly, her hands reaching up to cover her ears from the high shrills. She looked up and frowned instantly at the sight of the Bua lady.

"Well, well, have you come to gloat?" Yara drawled uncaringly, standing up from her seated position, slowly due to her injuries, and hobbling over to face Fianna.

"Gloat? Why would I need to gloat? The very presence of you, here imprisoned in a cell is more than satisfactory," Fianna told her with a small smirk. Her smirk fell slightly, ready to discuss the matter at hand. "Why did you do it?"

Yara let out a laugh, and looked the girl up and down, "do you really expect me to tell you that?"

Fianna reached her hand and gripped the collar of the girl's shirt, tugging her forward roughly and knocking her face against the bar of the cell. Yara cried out in pain, her hands shooting up to cover her mouth which was now pouring with blood. Fianna was sure she could see her front tooth broken.

"And they call you Northmen honourable-" she spat at Fianna's feet, to which the girl paid no heed.

"No, they call the Starks honourable. And I am not a Stark. If I had it my way, I'd break every bone in your body until you told me why you felt you had the audacity to take _my_ home," she threatened through the bars, her teeth baring.

"Maybe not honourable, but definitely stupid," she grinned a bloody smile. To which Fianna broke into laughter at, Yara's smile began to fall in confusion at Fianna's humour.

"You actually think you're in a position to insult me?" Fianna laughed even harder. "You are in a cell, your men are dead and today you will be sent to Winterfell and dealt with accordingly. You held my castle for mere days and think you are the smart one?"

Fianna turned around, her laughter echoing down the hallway as she strolled away from Yara.

Yara was not put off by Fianna's jests, but. She knew that her father would get her out of this situation, and if she were headed for Winterfell to be imprisoned there, perhaps she would even be freed.

"I'm tempted to not let you go," Tiernan teased, hugging his younger cousin tightly.

"I'm tempted not to go, but I made a promise," she reminded him, smiling softly. They embraced for another moment before letting go, Tiernan looking slightly emotional.

"This better not be the last time I see you," he laughed off to hide his worry, shaking his head. This farewell seemed so much more emotional than before. Then again, the world was a much more dangerous place than it had been then.

"I better not have to come back and save your arse again!" She joked, poking him in the rib cage.

"You've left 400 of your men behind, if you have to come back _again_ I may as well just give up while I'm at it," he rolled his eyes.

"Goodbye, cousin. I hope it isn't the last time," she said remorsefully, her smile noticeably dimming as she pulled away from him.

Tiernan watched as she mounted her horse, expertly swinging her leg over the saddle and calling out to her host that she was ready to leave.

She turned to look back at Tiernan, the two nodded swiftly at each other before Fianna began to gallop away, the remainder of her host and Yara Greyjoy imprisoned along with her.

Tiernan had a terrible feeling in his gut, he stayed on the guard tower until all of her party had disappeared in the distance.

* * *

 _Robb_

"You shouldn't have let her go!" Lord Glover complained, waving his hand in the air.

"Her house was under siege, Lord Glover. You would want the same if you were in her predicament," Robb spoke back, tiredly. He was fed up of defending his decision, which was something he had to do everyday since Fianna left.

It had been a little over a week since Fianna departed and he was exhausted and stressed. He missed seeing her around the camp, even if they were purposefully avoiding each other. At least then he knew she was safe.

Now he was wracked with fear and worry, physical signs of it appearing in his darkened undereyes and pale face. He didn't sleep much at night, and when he did sleep, his dreams were consumed with images of her dying a brutal death.

"We're to reach the Lannister camp for battle in a week, my lord, and that Bua girl has taken 1000 of our men it's a sore price to pay," Lord Umber interjected.

"That Bua girl is defending a great Northern household from invasion, that Bua girl has done a lot for us. You'd do well to remember that, Lord Umber," Robb couldn't hold back as he spewed his words out, losing all formality and reason.

" _Robb_ ", Lady Catelyn whispered shortly under her breath in warning.

Robb only looked to her with narrowed eyes in response. He wasn't listening to anything his mother had to say any more, as long as Fianna was the topic of conversation. And Fianna did prove to be the topic of a lot of her conversations as of late.

"Lady Bua should be here in time to join our force by the time we reach a battle, my lords," Robb said resolutely.

"And if she isn't?"

Robb didn't have an answer to that, he only sighed internally and got up to leave the tent. He was losing his patience with his lords, the Tully anger he had inherited starting to rise.

When he reached the outside air, he took a deep breath in and tilted his head back, his eyes closed as he tried to push all thoughts of Fianna aside. Which proved damn near impossible. Her absence was like a physical ache that he needed to be relieved of.

The gods seemed to be in a funny mood, as a nose bumped against his knee - he looked down to see Fianna's dog.

Fianna had left Chroi with Robb, as a sign of good faith. As a promise that she would come back. He knew that she would anyway, Fianna was as loyal to Robb as Grey Wind. But the fact that she had left her closest companion spoke volumes.

Chroi bumped his nose against Robb's hand and started to lick his palm, to which Robb lifted his hand up and stroked his muzzle gently.

"You miss her too, boy?" He murmured, to which the wolfhound whined in response, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at Robb with saddened eyes.

Chroi followed Robb around everywhere since Fianna left, almost as if he were watching him for Fianna. Or perhaps he was just terrified and following someone his master trusted. Robb's heart ached as he thought of the panic Chroi must be consumed with, did he think Fianna had abandoned him?

* * *

 _Fianna_

Winterfell, Fianna decided, was a pleasant place.

It wasn't lavish, or well decorated as a Southern house would have been - which was typical of a Northern stronghold anyway. But it held a certain charm and homeliness to it. It was far larger than Baelfort.

Unfortunately for her, it only served as a reminder of Robb. Everywhere she looked she was plagued with thoughts of him.

 _Did he play in that courtyard?_

 _Robb ate his meals in that great hall._

 _Did he use that target practice?_

 _Will him and his betrothed wife sit at that high table when they return to Winterfell?_

"My lord, it is nice to finally meet you. Your brother talks so much about you," Fianna spoke kindly to the young lord, who looked far too young to be seated at the high table. He didn't look much like Robb, actually. Obviously savouring his father's side whereas Robb had favoured his mother's.

He was crippled, and therefore bound to sit at his chair. The maester and Ser Rodrick accompanied him, likely acting as advisors.

"You know my brother?" He asked, his tone lightening with interest.

"I do indeed, we're rather close friends," Fianna smiled softly, her hands crossed in front of her in respect. She felt pity for him, he had already been through so much at such a young age.

"Oh," Bran replied, his interest obviously piqued at this, he was obviously missing his brother. Fianna admired that. She liked that they had such a close bond. "Tell him Rickon and I miss him, please."

"I will, of course," she agreed with a nod.

"We will keep Yara Greyjoy prisoner here until Robb returns to sentence her. She will serve as a hostage and not be permitted to leave her cell, she will be guarded. That will hopefully put down Balon Greyjoy's thirst for another rebellion," Maester Luwin explained, acting as a speaker for Bran who seemed to have no interest in affairs of Lords whatsoever.

"I agree to those terms," she told them, and with a nod to Bran and a "my lord", left the room swiftly.

The second she hit the cooler, almost Wintery air she was met with another small body who ran flush into her front.

The small boy had a thick head of brown curls, and was no older than 5 or 6. He had obviously been watching the situation from the entrance behind the door and hadn't realised when Fianna was approaching.

"You know Robb?" He asked excitedly, gleaming up at her with a bright, innocent smile.

"Well, who do we have here?" She asked with a laugh, ruffling the curls on the boy's head, "I do, yes. You wouldn't happen to be..." she mused playfully, putting her finger on her lip, toying with him, "Rickon, would you?"

He nodded enthusiastically and Fianna dropped down to a crouch to be at eye level with him, placing her hands on each of his arms.

"Robb tells everyone at the camp all about you! He says you're braver than them all and that he misses you so much, it's an honour to meet you," she told him, noting the way his eyes lit up in happiness.

Robb had told Fianna of Bran and Rickon before, more than often. Obviously, this was before they had stopped talking. When Robb would talk into the wee hours of the night about his siblings, he cherished each one of them equally to the other although they were all so different. Fianna felt like she almost knew them already.

"Is Robb coming back soon?" Fianna's smile faltered slightly at his words. She knew it would probably be a long time before Robb would be home to Winterfell again, if he ever made it home.

"Yes, dear, soon," she said anyway, forcing a smile. Who was she to ruin a child's hope?

Fianna's gaze flickered over when a large dark mass appeared behind Rickon, her eyebrows furrowed for a second before she concluded that it was a dire wolf.

It was similar to Grey Wind in stature, with Grey being slightly bigger. It's thick black fur almost made him more intimidating than Grey Wind somehow.

Fianna was confused when the wolf growled, obviously at Fianna's hands on his masters arms. Grey Wind sensed threats, and growled accordingly then. Why did this one see her as a threat? She let go of Rickon slowly and stood up even slower.

"No, Shaggydog!" Rickon commanded sternly, and it took the wolf a moment longer than it should have to back down. Which made Fianna quite uneasy.

"I really must be off now, love," she told Rickon, her party was paused outside of Winterfell and waiting their lady's return so they could venture on. They had barely been there an hour.

"Tell Robb I miss him, please," Rickon asked, his tone noticeably sadder. Fianna, unable to resist, crouched down and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Of course I will, he misses you even more," she soothed, squeezing him for a moment before letting go. She ruffled his hair again, a smile playing with her lips and eyed Shaggydog one more time, before setting off to rejoin her party - one prisoner less after they had holed Yara up in a cell.

Fianna made her way towards her horse, and decided that she liked Winterfell. Her mind cruelly told her that so would Robb's wife.

Fianna set off her horse into a gallop, eager to get back to the Stark camp. She looked back over her shoulder one more time, and wondered if she would ever see Winterfell again.

* * *

 _Robb_

He promised Cersei Lannister that he would litter the South with Lannister dead, and that was exactly what he had intended on doing.

They attacked at night, something he had gained inspiration of from the whispers he had heard of Fianna's retaking of Baelfort. He hadn't heard word of her death, something that relieved him greatly, but the Seven Kingdoms over were rife with talk of the young Lady who had singlehandedly led a force against her own lands and broke its siege by the morning.

She hadn't returned to him yet. At that point, he wasn't sure if she ever would. Or if he was wrong to let her go home. He didn't even know if he she had left Baelfort yet.

A shower of rain began to beat against his face, as he and his men waited quietly for Grey Wind. Robb had sent his direwolf to infiltrate Stafford's camp at Oxcross, to spook them a little. And spook he did, before the battle even begun, Grey Wind tore apart several sentries and frightened the horses enough for their squeals to rouse the Lannister soldiers from their sleep.

Straight after, barely giving them a chance to rise from their beds, Robb began to charge towards Oxcross. His men began to shout " _The King in the North!_ ", and if their enemies hadn't awakened already - they surely would by now.

It mattered not that were minus one thousand soldiers, for the army that Stafford had raised were inexperienced and unprepared for battle, a 'green army' that had been assembled in a panic after the obliteration of Jaime Lannister's army.

Stafford had been a fool, Robb realised. He believed himself to be safe from an onslaught of Stark forces by being in his own lands and close to Lannisport. A fool, indeed.

The battle raged on into the early morning, and Robb could swear that for every one of his men, five of the Lannister soldiers died as a result.

Robb was always at the centre of the fighting, something which his men had prided him for. He didn't cower on a hill to watch the fight from an advantage, he was involved and ready to fight.

There wasn't much left for her to pick at, when she finally came back.

The sound of a horn rippled through the air, and for a brief moment Robb worried that the Lannisters had assembled another army. He hadn't incorporated that into his battle plans.

But his worries were silenced at the sight of a banner, bearing the image of a black wolfhound's face on a blue background, approaching the obliterated Oxcross camp. His worries were now replaced by another feeling entirely, complete and utter relief.

He spotted her from a mile away, she sat tall on her horse, looking around the field that was littered with dead. She had come back to him after all.

Fianna was still looking frantically around the battlefield, and Robb fooled himself into believing that she was actually looking for him. He was hard to spot, he reckoned, with his armour on he guessed he was hard to pick out amongst the crowd. Whereas Fianna could be seen a mile off, her long dark hair flooded behind her, instead of being braided back sophistically.

Fianna moved slowly through the masses on horse back, until she finally saw him. He was stood there, almost in a daze, looking directly at her.

And that was when Fianna decided she was done.

She was done pretending not to harbour feelings for him.

She was done pretending she didn't look for him everywhere she went.

She was done pretending that he wasn't all she thought of.

She was done pretending the thought that he would die in battle while she wasn't there to protect him, ate up her innards until it made her feel physically sick.

She was done holding back the absolute and utter happiness that coursed through her when she seen he was there. There, standing, waiting for her and not laid out, dead on the field.

Fianna dismounted her horse, not once breaking her eye contact with Robb. Then she started for him.

When Robb realised Fianna was headed his way, he began to move his feet toward her, eager to meet her faster.

Fianna shoved men out of her way without remorse, she wasn't here to impress anyone today or be polite.

The distance between them felt larger, almost like the world was holding them back from each other and every step forward felt like two backwards. Fianna supposed that, that was exactly what was happening in her life. Everything trying to pull them apart.

When they finally reached each other after what felt like years apart, Fianna stood a few feet from Robb, her chest rising up and down as she panted slightly.

They shared eye contact for one prolonged moment, before their eyes trailed over each other, desperately inspecting the other for any sign of injury. Robb's eyes narrowed at the healing cut on her cheekbone, and the still present black eye that she received as a result of it.

They were dirtied and messy, Fianna from riding and Robb from battle. But neither of them cared.

Fianna threw all caution to the wind, her mind screaming at her that it was a terrible idea but deciding that subsequently she didn't care. She rushed forward until their bodies met, her hands reaching for his neck, his reaching for her cheeks and they leaned in and did the one thing they'd been holding back on doing for months.

They kissed.

They kissed until Fianna was sure her lips was bruised, until the air was knocked from their bodies, until Robb's grip on her cheeks left smudges of blood behind from his victims. As Robb dropped his hands from her cheeks and wrapped his arms around her body to lift her up more., feet dangled off the ground, but for all she knew she could have been flying.

* * *

 ***cough* you're welcome *cough***

 **AYYYYY THEY FINALLY KISSED. I couldn't put that off for much longer, and what better way for Robb and Fianna's first kiss than on a battlefield littered with dead men?**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and followed! It really encourages me to write the next chapter!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - She was indeed involved with Rickon and Bran! I had to write a little interaction with them! Catelyn is very rash and her actions are fuelled by her protectiveness rather than rationality so she can do stupid shit sometimes haha, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! x**

 **Werewolfs-team - I'm glad you liked it! Hope you enjoyed this one x**

 **Ellie - Yayyy I'm glad you like Tiernan! The way I have him pictured in my mind, I love him because I think he's just a genuinely good lad. They did mess with the wrong woman indeed, as for Winterfell you'll have to wait and see! That's exactly what ran through my mind when she was beating up Asha/Yara too! I don't usually like to spoil too much but I'm just gonna go out and say it, Talisa is NOT gonna be in this book! I can't stand her character to be honest and I just don't see how she'd fit into this story whatsoever, and neither will Jeyne Westerling in case you wondered! Thanks for reviewing! x**

 **Reaganrose1315 - I'm so glad you liked! Hope you enjoy this one too x**

 **GM12 - Thank you so so much! Yeah there's barely any! I actually considered doing a secret Targaryen fic but I got this idea of a Northern family and I couldn't resist writing it then and I'm glad I did! I'm glad you're enjoying it x**

 **lilnightmare7 - thank you! I'm glad you liked it I hope you enjoy the rest and future chapters! x**

 **Jessie - I wouldn't dare take Fianna away from Robb for long aha!**


	10. (IX) They Say

_Song: Wicked Game by Stone Sour_

 _Fianna_

When they finally broke their kiss what felt like many moons later, they rested their foreheads against each other's - as they had many times before. A wide grin present on each other's lips. They knew that what they had just done would have consequences, but that was a conversation for later. They didn't care about that now.

The rush that flowed through their bodies succeeded over any sensation a battle victory could give them.

"I take it you missed me then?" Robb asked teasingly, his breath hitting her lips, to which Fianna giggled at.

"More like you missed me, you couldn't keep your hands off of me the second you saw me," she retorted back, raising an eyebrow at him. He lifted his hands up and cupped her dirtied cheeks, tucking her hair behind her ears with his stained fingers.

He wished he had the chance to wash up before he was touching her.

"You kissed me," he pointed out, bumping his nose against hers.

"No, you kissed _me._ " Fianna replied stubbornly, almost like a child.

"No- Fianna, I mean... that just happened," he said, bringing the mood down entirely as they two were snapped back to reality.

"And?" She prodded, leaning her head back to look at him properly.

"And I intend to do that again," he smirked, closing the distance in between them and kissing her forehead, then the tip of her nose, then her lips again in a short peck. When he pulled back, his gaze trailed over her face again, his thumb gently rubbing the mark on her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm more than okay," she assured him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his chest. "I knocked the fuck out of that Greyjoy girl and now I've gone and snogged you. It's been a pretty successful week."

Robb rolled his eyes at her words, holding her back in return tightly, his cheek against the top of her head. They stayed there for a moment in their embrace, before it was interrupted by the haughty voice of Roose Bolton.

"Your grace," he cut in, causing Fianna and Robb to jump apart from each other instantly as though they had been shocked.

"One moment, Lord Bolton," Robb said stiffly after clearing his throat, his tone much more serious that it had been mere seconds before.

Lord Bolton appeared unimpressed at the two, but moved away respectfully anyway, leaving the two alone again. Well, as alone as they could be in the middle of a battlefield in the aftermath of a battle.

"That man gives me the creeps, he's got a face you'd like to hit," Fianna shivered as she spoke, eyeing the tall Lord as he walked away.

"I believe you said the same for me once or twice," Fianna rolled her eyes at Robb's words and shoved his shoulder lightly, to which he reacted dramatically, reaching to grab his shoulder. "It's treason to strike your King!"

"So you've told me!" She laughed in return, shoving him again.

"Let's hope you don't go running into Roose Bolton's arms any time soon," he teased her as he started to back away, walking backwards so he could talk with her.

"Give him a crown and I just might!" She winked at him to which he scoffed and turned back around, running off to deal with Roose.

Fianna turned away as Robb walked off, a sudden feeling of dread filling her. Inside of their little bubble, she was happy. Ecstatic, really. But now she was out of it and she realised there would be massive implications of what just happened.

If Lady Catelyn found out, she'd skin Fianna alive, frankly. Not that she knew what the kiss had even meant, or if Robb had intended to go forth with his betrothal or not.

As she walked back to her horse, deep in thought, she was broken out of her spell by the ringing sounds of loud barks.

Fianna turned swiftly to see Chroi bounding towards her, blood matted in parts of his fur which ruffled in the wind as he ran towards her.

"Chroi!" She called out happily, giggling when the dog had jumped up on her, easily placing his paws on her armour-cladded chest due to his tall height. He tried to lick frantically at her face, but Fianna reclined her head back to stop him - knowing damn well that there was most likely the flesh of fallen Lannisters in between his teeth.

She settled instead for rubbing the top of his head and his ears, a wide grin on her face.

After a few minutes, she straightened and began to turn back to her horse, clicking her tongue for Chroi to follow her back to the Stark camp.

* * *

The victory celebrations were loud and glorious throughout the day. At the feast later that day, the men sang songs and would randomly go into shouts of _"THE KING IN THE NORTH"_ without warning.

Robb wasn't there, Fianna noted sadly, as she sat next to Ser Mick. Her mind was plagued all day with the thought of their kiss that morning - which brought both good and bad feelings.

On the one hand, the sensations that accompanied seeing him again live and well and to kiss him in a way she never thought she would have the chance to, felt absolutely amazing.

But they didn't come without their doubts. Her honour would be called into question, if Robb hadn't intended to call off his betrothal and wed Fianna she would certainly be labelled a whore and any chance of her ever marrying another would be shattered.

These doubts were fuelled by the fact everyone around the camp had heard of what happened, many looked at her in disgust. She heard the name "whore" muttered once or twice as she walked past, mainly from the Frey soldiers, but a swift glare from Fianna had silenced the perpetrators quickly.

She was not ashamed. She had nothing to be ashamed for. Robb and her had not lay together, they didn't know the words and feelings shared between the two. She wasn't going to be held accountable for acting upon matters of the heart.

So Fianna held her head high, and met every stare head on with a stare of her own.

"My lady.." Ser Mick began as she sat next to him, Fianna sighed. She wasn't prepared to be given yet another lecture by her own man.

"Don't," Fianna shut him down, not leaving much room for argument. They feasted quietly together after that, the sounds of the raucous and bawdy Lords were loud enough to fill the awkward silence.

"Tell us how you knocked the Greyjoy bitch on her arse, Bua!" Lord Umber called out, which lifted Fianna's spirits slightly. At least not all of the Lords had grown to have an ill opinion of her.

"The story is far too gruesome for dinner talk, my lord!" Fianna called back, a smirk playing with her lips. They all groaned in response. "But rest easy, I don't think any man or woman will dare try invade a house of the North again."

They all cheered in response, Fianna's cheeks heating up considerably as they began to shout " _BAELFORT"_ and " _FIANNA"_. It suddenly became clear to her that some, albeit some, were more concerned with Fianna's victory over the Greyjoys than the fact she had been kissing their betrothed King.

Chroi had returned to her side finally, he sat on his haunches and began nudging her hand with his mouth. She drew her attention from the lord's down to her wolfhound and scrunched her eyebrows curiously when she noticed that he had a small scroll between his teeth.

Fianna held her hand out and Chroi dropped it into her palm. She responded by petting his head with her other hand and praised him accordingly. Chroi lay down on his stomach next to her seat as she opened the scroll, which was slightly damp from Chroi's saliva.

 _ **Come to my tent.**_

That was all it said. And that was all she needed. She stood up quickly and left her chair, her half eaten food and the Northerners behind.

Fianna made her way slowly through the camp towards Robb's tent, nerves ate at her which slowed her stance down greatly.

She smiled softly at how different the circumstances were behind her last few visits to his tent. From breaking off their companionship, to demanding to leave to head for Baelfort. Somehow this visit was the hardest.

Robb was either going to make or break her.

She drew back the curtains leading into his tent slowly, to find him as he usually was - hunched over a map of Westeros. His head snapped up immediately upon noticing her entrance.

"I got your scroll," she said quietly, her nerves showing, as she meekly held it up in the air for him to see.

"Good, I was scared Chroi would have ate it," he said in return, his tone equally as soft.

"I'm surprised he didn't," she muttered, barely audible.

"Fianna.." he began, his tone instantly cutting through Fianna. It implied that she wouldn't like what he was about to say.

"Don't. I must apologise, your grace. I overstepped my duties immensely and disrespected you-" her words were cut off as he instantly stepped over to her, cupping her cheeks and smiling softly to soothe her worries.

"Stop that, for the gods sake. You act as if I'm a boy who had no idea what he was doing," he said with an undertone of amusement.

"Technically... you are a boy with no idea what he's doing," Robb rolled his eyes and dropped his hands down to cup around her chin, forcing her to look up at him, where her eyes had been staring fixedly at her feet.

"I want this, do you?" He asked, putting all the cards on the table. Fianna's breathing hitched at his words.

"I.. it's not that simple, Robb!" She protested with a groan, rolling her head back.

"It can be, just say the words. Say that you want this," he murmured, slipping his hands into her soft hair and resting them on the sides of her head.

"It's not that simple, there's so much to know! I have my honour to protect, you're betrothed, your mother," Fianna gasped suddenly in horror, "by the gods, your _mother_!"

"My mother is just that, my mother. She doesn't control what I do or how I feel no matter how much she likes to think she does, Fianna," Robb protested, his calmness starting to annoy Fianna.

"And your betrothal? What of that?" She insisted.

"Fianna," he groaned this time, "I don't want to think of whatever dreaded Frey girl I am to be wed to."

"Well it's all I can think about it! Are you trying to take me for a whore?" Her tone getting heated all of a sudden.

"No! Of course not!" He protested, his tone also getting louder in volume.

"Then what is it? You offer me so much that I cannot accept because you are to be wed, Robb," he dropped his hands from her head and hair at her words, looking down to his feet ashamedly.

"I want you," she admitted in a gentle tone, cupping his cheek until he looked at her with his gorgeous Tully blue eyes. "But wanting isn't enough, for people like us.."

He didn't bother to answer her, instead leaning in and pressing his lips to hers again in a much gentler kiss than they had shared that morning.

Fianna tilted her head into the kiss, her hands dropping to rest on his neck as his arms wrapped around her waist.

They broke apart for a second, breathing heavily against the others mouths, Robb brushing his lips over hers teasingly.

"On second thought, it's only kissing," Fianna rambled in a rush, attaching their lips again in a much more heated kiss. Robb started to gently push her forward until her back hit the table, causing the pawns to tip and fall over.

Robb trailed his mouth down from hers, leaving a path of kisses as he went down to her neck, burying his face into her shoulder and placing hot, open mouthed kisses on the skin of her neck.

Fianna's eyes fluttered in pleasure, her head tilting back to give him more access until suddenly she was hit with a good old dose of reality.

Her eyes snapped open, her hands flying up to push Robb away. He stumbled back a couple of feet in shock and looked to her worriedly, "what? What is it?"

"I'm stopping this now before it gets out of hand!" She said breathlessly, lifting her hand to brush her fingers over her slightly swollen and reddened lips.

"Tease," he joked with a wide smirk on his face, his cheeks flushed.

"Says the betrothed," she fired back with a smirk of her own, walking forward to leave the tent before she lost control completely.

He grabbed her hand as she passed him and tugged her back, spinning her around until she faced him again and leaned in to place one more kiss on her lips. Well, multiple kisses.

He finally let her go then, wide smiles evident on both of their faces.

"It's treason to abandon your king!" He called out to her as she finally departed his tent.

"Oh, hang me, your grace!" She fake sobbed, turning around and walking backwards so he could see the mock look of despair on her face.

As she turned the corner and left his sight, Robb let out another laugh, shaking his head softly. He was absolutely clueless about what he was going to do with Fianna Bua.

All he knew was that his betrothal wasn't even something he thought of any more.

* * *

 _Arya_

"The Starks understand Winter better than we ever will."

 _Agreed._ Arya thought to herself, making sure to not let any signs that she was listening to their conversation show. She stayed serving the food to the Lords, resisting the urge to spit in it all the while. And the urge to eat it of course. Her stomach rumbling quietly at the sight of the delicious food.

She hadn't realised how many luxuries she had taken advantage of being Eddard Stark's daughter until it was stripped from her.

She wasn't stupid. She had to keep face in front of Tywin to keep her head. And if all went well, perhaps she could even take everything she hears him tell his Lords back to Robb someday. Maybe.

"Our spies report growing discontent among the Northern Lords, they want to return home and gather their harvest before the crops turn," a man advised Tywin. Arya didn't know his name, nor did she care. Nothing he said phased her. She knew how deep the loyalty of the North extended - they would never even think to abandon Robb at this time.

"This is war, no ones content," Tywin disagreed in a bored tone, pausing for a moment to look around the faces of his Lords, "we've underestimated the Stark boy for too long. He has a good mind for warfare and his men worship him. As long as he keeps winning battles they'll keep believing he is King in the North."

Arya felt an overwhelming sense of pride fill her for her brother. She was never as close to Robb as she had been to Jon, ironic really given the were only half-siblings. But Robb was her blood. Robb was fighting for their family against those that killed their father.

 _Unlike Sansa_ , she thought to herself, bitterly. Arya forced the image of Sansa standing there on the podium, smiling with her stupid red hair tied in a Southern style, a pretty dress on her frame, out of her brain. Lest she get angry again.

"You've been waiting for him to fail," Tywin continued, "he's not going to fail, not without our help. So how do we stop him?"

"Our spies also reported he's rather fond of the Bua lady, my lord. Perhaps she could be a weapon for us to use."

"Ah yes, Fianna Bua," Tywin nodded. He heard all about the Northern lady. The seven kingdoms over had heard of her. "The girl who orchestrated the attack on Jaime and took back Baelfort commanding her own army. Small wonder as to why he's fond of her."

Arya heard the whispers about her too, and despite never having met her, Arya looked up to Fianna greatly. She was everything she wished she could be, a true warrior lady.

She longed to be Fianna. To be the Lady of Baelfort, just so that nobody could tell her what to do, to run and fight for the Starks, to be as skilled of a warrior and as masterful of a strategist as Arya heard she was.

"We could orchestrate an assassination?" Reginald suggested.

"The chance of even reaching her is slimmer than the chance of you returning home, should you keep suggesting stupidity to me," Tywin spoke, his patience wearing thin.

"Think about it, my lord. The Stark boy is just a boy, he'd go mad with rage should his beloved whore be killed. He'd attack us without much thought and without the girl's battle strategies, I'd wonder how he'd fare without her," Tywin only looked at him in response. He always had the rarest expression on his face, one that was perpetually smug, perpetually angry and perpetually condescending all at the same time.

Arya knew that the plan wouldn't work. Fianna's tent had to have been guarded after the attack. She heard that an attacker had entered her tent to have his way with her, and in return Fianna chopped his limbs piece by piece and fed them to her famous wolfhound.

"Forgive me, my lord. It's the exhaustion talking. We've worked through the night, perhaps we would benefit from some sleep?"

"Yes, I think you would, Reginald," Tywin deadpanned, "and because you're my cousin I might even let you return with your head. Go, I'm sure your wife must miss you."

"My wife's in Lannisport.."

"Well, then you'd better start riding," Tywin spoke condescendingly, effectively shooing his kin from his tent.

Arya poured the Lord a glass of wine with steady hands, which he took greedily.

"Girl," he addressed her, Arya didn't think he ever asked her for her name, thankfully, "where are you from?"

"Maidenpool, my lord," Arya's fear forced her formality as she stood next to his chair at the head of the table, feeling tiny all of a sudden.

"And who are the Lords of Maidenpool? Remind me."

"House Mooton, my Lord."

"And what is their sigil?" Arya's heart almost stopped at his question, frantically racking her brain but not being able to formulate an answer. "A red salmon, I think a Maidenpool girl would remember that. You're a Northerner aren't you?"

As much as she absolutely hated him with every shred of her being, she had to admire just how truly intelligent Tywin Lannister was. First realising that she was a girl whereas the very men she slept next to hadn't, and now pinpointing where she was form.

"Good," he answered when she reluctantly nodded her head, "one more time, where are you from?"

"Barrowton, my lord. House Dustin. Two crossed longaxes beneath a black crown," she answered automatically, thanking the Gods for the wise teachings of her Septa and Maester Luwin - who she had abhorred at the time of the lesson.

"And what do they say of this Robb Stark and Fianna Bua in the North?"

"They call them the Young Wolf and the She Wolf," she answered automatically.

"And?" He pressed.

"They say Robb Stark rides into battle on the back of a giant direwolf, they say he can turn into a wolf himself if he wants. They say Fianna Bua is prophesied, that she's a resurrection of Aifric Bua. They say they can't be killed."

Aifric Bua was a name Arya had been very interested in learning since her youth. Aifric was a fierce warrior, and when Torrhen Stark bent the knee, she refused to on behalf of House Bua. Aifric stood against Aegon the Conqueror until he was forced to ride for Baelfort on the back of the Black Dread. Aegon stood on the walls of Baelfort and called upon Aifric to bend the knee. Aifric appeared and challenged him to a sword fight. Aegon, who was over confident from his conquest of Westeros, had agreed and Aifric had actually won - forcing Aegon down onto his knee with her sword.

Aegon was so smitten with her spirit and loyalty, they say he fell in love with Aifric. They say he asked for her hand in marriage but Aifric had refused, claiming she'd die in flames at her home before she'd submit herself to any man.

So, of course, Aegon burned Aifric on the grounds of Baelfort. Thus, Aifric's younger brother then became Lord of Baelfort, bending the knee to Aegon to spare Baelfort and his family.

Aifric was considered a traitor to the Targaryens, but to Arya, she was a martyr.

The sad thing about the story, was that it was also said her unwillingness to bend the knee was influenced by the recent death of her husband - who died at the hands of Aegon.

"And do you believe them?" Tywin asked, admiring her honesty.

"No, my lord," Arya answered before looking Tywin straight in the eye, "anyone can be killed."

* * *

 **Another chapter up! I hope you all enjoyed!**

 **I wonder what Tywin's got planned? I absolutely love his character, he's so complex and interesting and Charles (the actor who plays him) is AMAZING.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited and followed!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I know right? FINALLY. Little Rickon was such a little sweetheart, as for him in this book you'll just have to see!**

 **reaganrose1315 - happy? aha xx**

 **lilnightmare17 - thank you! I hope you enjoyed this one! x**

 **Ellie - I know right! Such a precious little bean. I couldn't just have Robb and Fianna have a boring old kiss by candlelight now could I? God I couldn't stand Talisa. Robb deserved a better love story, one worth actually dying for. Talisa was just... ugh. Aww that's such a compliment you think Fianna is better than her! Thank you so much! x**

 **Jazybear - I hope you liked this chapter! x**

 **Jessie - Shaggydog is just being his usual protective self and he didn't recognise Fianna! Thank you so much!**

 **StarkTeller - I could play around with Talisa to throw a spanner in the works but the thought of even having to write her is revolting ahah, Roose has appeared now! I'm so glad you like it and I hope you like the future chapters! x**


	11. (X) Nothing Ever Lasts Forever

_Song: Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Lorde_

 _Yara_

Yara Greyjoy was well accustomed to the smell of her own shit by now. It had been a while since the straw in her cell had been changed, and seeing as she hadn't been given a chamberpot - well, she was forced to adapt to the stench quickly.

She wasn't exactly treated like an honoured guest here at Winterfell, they interrogated her during the waking hours and she could only thank the Drowned God that they hadn't decided to resort to violence and rape to coerce her to speak. _Yet._

She heard the Starks were honourable, but she knew if it had been reversed and her father had captured a Stark girl, he wouldn't be against using physical methods for information.

She refused to give them anything. She refused to say why she had chosen Baelfort exactly for an invasion. All she had said was that her father, Balon Greyjoy, was the rightful King of the Iron Islands. And was entitled to rule the North by conquest.

The men who questioned her would often laugh when she recited this time and time again.

 _"Some conquest, eh?"_ They would jest. Poking fun at the failure of the siege of Baelfort. But Yara wasn't ashamed. Baelfort may be returned to the Buas but that did not mean the North was safe. One battle doesn't win the war.

Yara had been sat in her rags, poor excuses for clothing, in her cell with her head leaned back against the wall. She didn't even glance up at the sound of her cell opening again, mentally preparing herself for another day of interrogation.

A figure had stepped into her cell, she could see from the corner of her eye, but she still hadn't looked. She never gave them the satisfaction of looking afraid.

"You look a sight, sitting with your own shit as a cellmate, dear sister."

Yara didn't think she'd ever be relieved to hear the high pitched, annoying tone of her younger, failure of a brother. But that belief was bashed today.

Yara looked up instantly, her eyes widening at the sight of Theon standing there, suited in full armour.

"Why would the Starks let you down here?" She questioned disbelievingly, frankly - she wouldn't be surprised if Theon had ran back to the Starks with his tail between his legs and begging for retribution.

"I've done it, I've taken Winterfell," he said proudly, a stupid grin on his face. Yara stood slowly, her face etched with suspicion as she eyed her brother. Her eyes drifted over to the open cell door and the Greyjoy men standing outside of it.

" _You_? _You_ have taken Winterfell?" Theon was visibly offended by her surprise.

"Don't believe me? March upstairs to see the dead Stark soldiers littering the courtyard then," Yara eyed him carefully, slowly moving out of her cell in case it were a trick. She ventured her way out of the dungeons, her legs burning as she trailed upstairs from her lack of exercise of the last few weeks.

She squinted as the light hit her sensitive eyes, lifting a hand up to block the sun's glare to allow her vision to focus. When it did, she turned in a full circle to assess the surroundings.

 _Fuck_ , she thought. He really _did_ take Winterfell.

There were a few bodies of guards littered around, and the Stark banners that hung from the walls of Winterfell were in the process of being burned. A body had already been beheaded in the centre of the square, and she noticed a Maester tending to the wails of two young boys.

She turned to her brother again, an impressed smirk falling on her lips.

"I'll be damned, brother. Maybe you're not as useless as we thought."

"We caught them by surprise," Theon said proudly, placing his hands on his hips, "they hadn't been expecting an invasion after your men were slaughtered. She really did a number on you didn't she?" Theon teased, gesturing to the marks that still littered Yara's face.

"If I ever get my hands on the Bua bitch again," she threatened, "I'll kill her with my bare hands."

* * *

 _Fianna_

It was around midday, surely there was duties to be attended to - but Robb and Fianna weren't concerned with anything happening outside of his tent.

They had been laying in his bed, fully clothed of course - just enough restraint between them both not to lay with each other as a man would with his wife. Instead, sharing kisses and exchanging stories and enjoying the simplicities of their newfound situation.

They lay on their sides, their faces close together and Robb's hand resting on Fianna's hip.

"Tell me about the first girl you ever kissed," Fianna asked suddenly, curious to know everything about the king laying aside her.

"She was the kennel masters daughter, she was smitten with me so after dinner one evening I walked her to her chambers and kissed her, just to try it out," Robb told her softly, trailing his rough hand along her side.

"Smitten with you?" Fianna asked teasingly, "she must have been a fool."

"You would know what a fool looks like wouldn't you?" He fired back.

"Yes actually, I'm looking at one right now," she had outwitted him again, causing him to groan and roll his eyes. Fianna lifted her hand and gently began to trail her finger down Robb's face, feeling the grooves of his face.

"You're too smart for me, my lady," he admitted with a soft smile, his gaze combing over her expression. She flatted her hand against his cheek, cupping it.

"It is known," was all she said before leaning in and kissing his lips again, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Yet she never grew tired of the feeling of his lips beneath hers.

Besides, she knew their blissful happiness would one day come to an end. So she was going to seize every moment with Robb while she could.

"Robb?" A voice called out from the entrance to the tent, causing them both to freeze in fear, separating their lips.

Lady Catelyn.

She was unable to enter the tent, with the ties being tied ever so tightly. She must have only just returned from her visit to Renly Baratheon.

Fianna's eyes widened at Robb in fear, the two sitting up quickly almost in sync and practically jumping from the bed. Fianna began to mouth words to Robb, gesturing wildly towards the tent flaps.

"She is going to _murder_ me!" Robb could just about make out. He looked about his tent frantically, trying to figure out what to do. His eyes narrowed in on the table that held their maps and pawns and he started to point wildly at it.

"Just a moment, mother!" He called out, trying to keep his tone steady.

She looked at him with a look of disgust, her features turning up but she rushed over to it anyway - lifting the table cloth and ducking underneath it.

When Robb was sure Fianna couldn't be seen, he began to untie the knots that bound his tent closed, and thanked the Gods that Fianna had remembered to close them.

As soon as she was able to, Catelyn emerged inside of his tent - her blue eyes scanning the interior with mild suspicion before turning to her son.

They shared a hug in reunion. Despite Robb feeling anger towards her that his mother was wholeheartedly against Fianna, he still loved and missed her dearly and worried for her safety greatly.

"Mother," he mumbled as he hugged her tightly, she pulled away and looked up to him with a smile. "I've missed you."

"Yes, you look positively forlorn," she said sarcastically, looking around once again for any sign to prove her suspicions.

"You surprised me, that's all," Robb rushed out, furthering suspicion. Fianna rolled her eyes from her position under the table, _subtle_ she thought. "I didn't think I'd see you today."

"Robb, despite what you may think," she spoke sadly, reaching out for his cold hand and cupping them with her own warmer ones, "I do wish you were free to follow your heart."

Robb's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at this, "Mother? Where is this coming from?"

"I've had much time to think on my travel to Renly's camp, Robb. You've had to grow up too fast, I don't know whether it was war that done that or the crown they put on your head," she nodded with her head to the metallic circlet crown that rested on the table. Robb never wore it unless he was in public.

Robb only said "I know," in response.

"You have inherited your father's responsibilities, I'm afraid they come at a cost." Catelyn's eyes zoned in on the dishevelled furs that lay on Robb's bed, "you are promised to another, Robb."

"I know," Robb repeated, as if he hadn't been subsequently ignoring his betrothal altogether for the past week while he shared soft words and kisses with Fianna Bua.

"A dept that must be paid," she persisted, to Robb's annoyance.

"I haven't forgotten."

"Your grace, my lady."

The conversation was interrupted as a man, Fianna could not see who, entered the tent.

"News from Winterfell."

Robb and Catelyn left the tent immediately, but Fianna remained. Partly to remove cause for suspicion from Lady Catelyn, mostly to gather her thoughts.

She felt dirty all of a sudden. Like a child who hadn't understood the magnitude of a situation and made a fool of themselves. She believed Lady Catelyn to be holding them apart because she was, well, words that a Lady shouldn't repeat. Although Fianna certainly thought them.

But the conversation she just overheard had made her realise that Catelyn had Robb's best interests at heart, to ensure he repaid a debt and held his honour.

And for that, she was disgusted with herself.

* * *

 _Robb_

"This cannot be true.." Robb spoke in absolute disbelief. The small glimmer of hope he had in Theon diminished completely.

"We've had ravens from White Harbour, Baelfort, Barrowton and the Dreadfort," Roose explained in a grim tone, "I'm afraid it is true."

"Why?" Was the only word Robb could form at that moment. He should have known. Fianna warned him after Yara Greyjoy attacked Baelfort that Theon was a traitor and he had refused to believe it. He was a fool for not taking Baelfort's siege more serious.

"Because the Greyjoys are treacherous whores," Roose spoke in disgust.

"My brothers..?" Robb asked hopefully.

"We've heard nothing of them."

Robb and Catelyn dropped their heads in grief, until Roose spoke again to add to the trauma, "But Rodrik Cassel is dead."

"I told you never trust a Greyjoy!" Catelyn Stark broke, yelling at the top of her voice at her eldest son. She was absolutely heartbroken - Sansa and Arya were enough to break her, but Bran and Rickon _and_ their home? She couldn't take much more. "Get Lady Bua in here at once!" She called out to a guard by the entrance, who left Robb's tent and entered the night air swiftly to go and fetch Fianna.

They sat in silence as they waited for Fianna's arrival, unable to speak from the traumatic news. If Robb had the emotional capacity for it, he would have worried about why his mother requested Fianna.

Fianna entered the tent with a stony expression, which Robb noticed immediately. It broke however, her eyes narrowing in concern upon noticing the distress of her king and his mother.

"You requested my presence, your grace," Fianna asked, fear oozing out of her. She was scared that Robb had told Catelyn of their indiscretions, or she had somehow found out, and that she was being informed of her imminent execution at Catelyn's hand.

"No, I did. My lady," Catelyn had to force a formality at the end. "How many men did you leave to guard Baelfort?"

"Four hundred, my lady. We also called more bannerman so that would push it up to around 600, I'd reckon," Fianna explained in confusion, her gaze flickering to meet Robb who looked back at her with red-rimmed eyes.

"You will send these men to Winterfell at once."

"My lady, may I ask why? We are still under threat from the Greyjoys, the risk of invasion again is great this is a sensitive time to-"

"Sensitive time?" Catelyn spat harshly, marching up to Fianna. "My home is being ransacked by the very men you were allowed to march home and fight off. The fate of my sons is unknown to me. We gave you two hundred Stark men to reclaim Baelfort, you _will_ send your men to Winterfell."

"No, I won't." Fianna spoke back in a dead tone voice. The two were engaged in a fierce stare and neither refused to break it.

"Are you denying an order from the King, Lady Bua?"

"No, I am denying an order from the King's mother," Fianna replied in an equally fierce tone, "you are not his Regent. If he wished to demand me to send my men to Winterfell, to place my home at risk along with yours and leave Baelfort unattended, I will have no choice but to say yes."

Fianna felt horrible immediately after saying it, but she spoke no lies. As much as the news of Winterfell's siege hit her and she worried for the safety of the youngest Stark boys, she could not, and would not, just give up her home in return.

Lady Catelyn narrowed her eyes at Fianna, the two both turning to look at Robb for his opinion. But Robb hadn't been looking at either of them, instead, he was staring intensely at the scroll.

"I will go North," he spoke finally.

"No, you will not!" Fianna and Catelyn spoke at the same time, briefly glancing over to look at the other.

"There's still a war to win, your Grace," Lord Bolton interjected.

"How can I call myself King if I can't hold my own castle?!" Robb bellowed suddenly, rising from his chair - the reality of the situation hitting him finally.

"You're not a King because of a castle, you're a King because you deserve to be one, because we gave you that crown!" Fianna disagreed, pacing towards the desk to face Robb head on.

"How can I ask men to follow me if I can't-"

"How can you ask your men to return to the North when we've come this far?! If they return home, they will never march down south again!"

"You marched south again!"

"You _know_ why I did that!" She shouted, silencing Robb completely. To Catelyn, this was confirmation to her that Fianna had indeed felt more than mere platonic feelings for her king. That she felt more than just loyalty to her liege lord.

"You are a king," Catelyn spoke to change the topic back to the most important matter, "and that means you don't have to do everything yourself. Let me go and talk to Theon."

"There will be no talk," Robb replied, "he will die for this."

"I can spare 300, no more," Fianna consented, "but it's not certain that a mere 300 will be able to retake Winterfell."

"Your grace," Roose began, "Theon holds the castle with a skeleton crew. Let me send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort, he can raise a few hundred men and join with Lady Bua's men to retake Winterfell before the new moon."

Fianna eyed Roose carefully, she didn't trust the man as far as she could throw him. But, it was a plan. And the only chance they had.

"My boy would be honoured to bring you Prince Theon's head," Roose continued.

"And my cousin would be honoured to bring you Prince Bran and Prince Rickon, safe," Fianna added haughtily, almost childishly making a dig at Roose.

"Yes, Bran and Rickon's safety is paramount. You must tell them that," Robb insisted, to which Fianna and Roose nodded. "And Theon, I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye, and ask him why. Then I'll take his head myself.

* * *

 _ **My dearest cousin,**_

 _ **I must apologise upfront for what I will ask of our men, and of you. As you may well know, Winterfell has been under siege by the Greyjoys - much like the situation Baelfort found itself in. Is it imperative that you must make contact with Roose Bolton's bastard at the Dreadfort, and lead a host alongside him of 300 men, no more, to retake Winterfell. The Starks assisted us in retaking our home, we must assist them.**_

 _ **Regards,**_

 _ **Fianna Bua**_

* * *

 _Fianna_

She had been halfway towards sleep when a rustle in her tent had awoken her. She lifted her head, alert suddenly and felt a rush of panic upon noticing a dark figure about to clamber inside of her bed.

Fianna reached for the dagger she always kept under her pillow now, and whipped it out, ready to attack another assailant.

Robb's eyes widened as he realised what Fianna was thinking, immediately leaning in so she could make out his features in the dark as he began whispering soothingly, "No, my love, it's me."

Fianna sighed, tears prickling at her eyes as she was overcome with relief at what could have very possibly just happened again.

She tossed the dagger onto the floor and shuffled sideways in bed to allow him space to lay next to her, and he did, clambering into her bed and drawing the furs over the two of them. He then wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her body towards his, wrapping his arms around her tightly and protectively.

"You scared me," she accused, her voice trying to appear strong when it was on the verge of breaking.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he soothed, peppering kisses against her forehead.

"Did Ser Mick just let you inside my tent?" She asked confusedly.

"Yes, I know he'll have something to think about it but I just can't Fianna. I can't be alone tonight after what happened," Fianna nodded her head understandingly, nuzzling into his chest.

Fianna chose at that moment not to mention what had been plaguing her mind, which was that they truly couldn't do this any more. Save him one more night, let him take comfort in her as she had taken comfort in him so many times before.

"What's wrong?" He asked, eying the little crease between her eyebrows.

"Nothing, nothing.."

"Fianna."

"I just...," she began, wondering if she should say it, "I don't want to go to sleep, knowing this could be one of the last times we lay together."

"Why would it be?" He asked in confusion until Fianna gave him a pointed look, then he realised.

They said nothing thereafter, eventually falling into a blissful sleep in each other's arms.

"I _knew_ there was something going on," a female voice, full of malice and distaste woke them when the morning light broke.

Fianna and Robb jolted up in bed, their hearts stopping at the sight of Lady Catelyn in the tent. Ser Mick burst in after her, "I'm sorry my lady, I couldn't stop her!"

"Mother-" Robb began, but she cut him off with a glare.

"Get out, now Robb. Before the rest of the men awaken and wonder why you're leaving Fianna's tent," her voice was colder than Robb had ever heard it. He got out of bed and glanced over to Fianna, feeling protective.

"I will not," he refused, Fianna got out of bed, her shoulders stiff as she readied herself for the fight surely about to happen.

"It's okay, Robb," Fianna urged, not breaking her gaze with Catelyn. This was between them now. Robb eventually left after a moment, leaving Catelyn and Fianna alone.

"You are a _stupid_ little girl, I have warned you time and time again of having relations with my son," Catelyn spoke, looking Fianna up and down in disgust. But Fianna stood proud.

"He did not bed me, if that's what you're assuming. But now that you have had the cheek to enter my tent without permission, I wish he had," Fianna allowed a smirk to lift her lips in defiance.

Catelyn marched forward and smacked the girl so hard across the face, Fianna's head flew to the side. Fianna lifted her hand up to her face, brushing her fingers over her reddened cheek.

"It is time for you to go home, Lady Fianna." At this, Fianna straightened, dropping her hand.

"I will not, you will not demand anything of me. You do not have the right."

"I don't have the right but I have the sense you seem to lack. You were denied of a mother during your upbringing, so your wildness and lack of manners can be forgiven. However I will not let you lose this war for my son."

"Lose this war? I have contributed all of myself to it, I was the reason Robb won victory over the Riverlands!"

"And you will be the reason he will lose the Frey's support if you don't leave now."

"If you force me to leave," Fianna threatened, "my men will not stay here to fight for Robb. They will march home with me."

"No they will not, you will tell them that you have fallen ill and that they must stay and fight for Robb. You will be allowed a small party to escort you back to Baelfort and then you will never see my son again."

Fianna recoiled in shock, "why would I ever agree to do that?"

"Because, despite what I think of it, I know you love my son. And you know if you truly loved him, you wouldn't want his blood on your hands. Robb needs armies. Not a mistress. If he loses the Bua or Frey men he will lose this war. And you are only proving to be a distraction."

Fianna dropped her head to look at her feet, her mind reeling. Was Catelyn right? This entire time she thought she was going to help Robb win the war, but was she being more detrimental to his efforts than helpful?

"So? Will you do the right thing and spare my sons life?"

Fianna only nodded in response.

* * *

 **...oops!**

 **Can't let you go too long with a happy Robb and Fianna now could I? But believe me, the story is really about to kick off.**

 **Thanks to those that reviewed, I'm feeling a little disheartened with the story lately and unsure if it's actually good so that's been kind of putting me off writing.**

 **lilnightmare17 - thank you and I hope you enjoyed x**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I loved writing Arya's part and I do intend to have her more involved in this story!**

 **Ellie - I agree I absolutely love Greatjon in this! Literally. I would have understood Robb and Talisa's relationship if it was well developed but they literally have about 5 conversations and they're getting married. I know shit moves fast in GOT universe but really? Robb wasn't that stupid, it was bad writing in my opinion.**

 **reaganrose1315 - I hope you enjoyed this one! x**

 **Jazybear - I could play with Talisa and use her to put a spanner in Fianna and Robb's relationship but for what I have planned her character isn't needed at all and I don't like the idea of introducing her just to make Fianna jealous. Thank you! I loved Arya's part as well and you will see more of her! I had never actually thought of writing an Aifric fanfic after this one! But I could definitely consider that, or maybe a short story of her alongside this book?**

 **Guest- Me neither!**

 **Hi I'm Ella - haha I'm glad you enjoyed it! xx**


	12. (XI) Broken

_Song: War is Love by Bobby Andonov_

 _Fianna_

"My loyal men," Fianna began, "you may be wondering why I have called on you all, and it is with a heavy heart I do so."

She was stood on the slant of the hill at the camp, with her entire force spread out in front of her. She called out loud so every man would be able to hear. The morning had barely broke, and nobody had a chance to break their fast yet. But she wanted to get away early.

"I'm afraid, I will not be able to march on in this war much longer. Circumstances have forced me to return to Baelfort at once," there was an outcry immediately, the men's faces turning into confusion as they looked around at each other. "However I would request of you to stay and fight on in my name. Fight and win this war. Fight for Robb Stark, the King in the North."

The second she finished talking, her men all began to yell out in anger. It was hard to decipher one voice from another.

Christopher Meanma had been at the forefront of the crowd, so he stepped forward so his lady would be able to hear and see him.

"My lady, with respect, I marched to war for you, not for the Stark boy. I will not march behind a Stark. The Meanmas have been bannerman for the Buas for centuries. If you go home, we go too!"

Fianna's lips parted in shock, her eyes flitting up as the rest of her men had begun to shout out in agreement.

"We called him King because you did, but if it comes down to it, we'd bend the knee to you before any King." Another called. Fianna struggled to keep her composure, but the words touched her greatly.

"We will follow your orders as you are liege lord, but I must urge you, we will fight with half the spirit and half the strength as when we fought for _you._ " Christopher continued, Fianna's heart pounding in her chest.

Ser Mick stepped forward then, and Fianna looked to him, feeling a pang of guilt that all the advice he gave her, she had blatantly ignored it. She should have listened, in hindsight.

"Wherever you go, I will go, my lady," he drew his sword, tossing it forward until it lay at Fianna's feet.

Christopher followed, ripping his sword out and placing it beside Ser Mick's. Then, like a chain reaction, the rest followed. Any man who could reach, tossed their sword at Fianna's feet. And those that could not, raised it high in the air. They all chanted one thing, a sort of nickname Fianna had begun to realise the World gave her and was not forgetting any time soon.

" _She-wolf! She-wolf! She-wolf!"_

The atmosphere was absolutely electric, and the only other moment in her life Fianna could compare this to would be when herself and the other Lords named Robb the King in the North.

But this time, it had been directed at her. They weren't naming her Queen in the North, although she felt like it, they were showing their loyalty to her and no other.

The chants had stirred the rest of the camp, as they began blearily exiting their tents and going outside to see the commotion.

She knew then she couldn't force them to stay with Robb's camp. So instead of taking them and having Robb lose the Bua support entirely, she was going to march them North and protect it from the Greyjoys. And if she was on time, she'd march straight for Winterfell and protect his younger brothers with her life.

"Well then," she called out, quieting their shouts, "let's go home."

* * *

 _ **My dear Robb,**_

 _ **Know that I write this with a heavy heart, with full awareness that my timing could not be worse. It is upon the advice of your lady mother, that I have come to realise how truly foolish I have been. I have been blinded by my feelings for you, feelings I can only accurately describe as love. It is these feelings that have blinded me to the situation at hand, both my position and yours. I have agreed to leave your company and return to Baelfort at once. I have tried to reason with my men to stay and fight for you, however they refuse to be led by anyone other than myself.**_

 _ **Instead, I will march my men North and use them to protect it from further Greyjoy invasion.**_

 _ **If you must hang me for an oathbreaker upon your return North, I will accept that. For the relief I will surely feel that you are alive enough to do so, will far outweigh the pain of death.**_

 _ **Forgive the informality of writing this in a letter, however the pain of doing this in person would be too much for me to bear.**_

 _ **So all I can tell you is this, I do love you. And I will love you until the end of my days.**_

 _ **Regards**_

 _ **Fianna**_

* * *

 _Robb_

He stormed into his mother's tent so hard that it wouldn't be a surprise to anyone present if the entire thing collapsed. Grey Wind was so attuned to his anger, that he came pouncing behind him, growling at an unknown enemy.

"What did you do?" He gritted out, glaring at his mother with the most malice she had ever seen in her eldest child.

"Robb.." Catelyn began, standing up from her chair.

"Don't 'Robb' me! You forced Fianna to go North, tell me right now what you could have possibly done to make my most loyal lord forget her oaths and her loyalty," his tone was low but deadly nonetheless. She sighed as she approached him, trying to calm him.

"Was it her oath you are hurt over her leaving behind? Or you?"

"This again?!" He yelled, his face reddening in anger. "Tell me right now what you said or I swear to the gods-" he didn't finish, but he didn't need to.

"I reminded her of her place and suggested she leave for Baelfort," Catelyn replied infuriatingly calmly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"Fianna wouldn't just _leave,_ especially not when it was just a suggestion from you, of all people."

"She is going to be the reason you lose this war, Robb!" Catelyn's composure broke as she began to shout back at him.

"Tell me how I am going to win it then when Fianna has taken all of her host back home with her?!" Catelyn recoiled in shock at his words.

"What?" She sputtered.

"We've lost the Bua men, they've marched home with their lady and refuse to stay without her. You say that Fianna will be the one to lose us this war," he eyed her up and down before speaking again, "I think it's you."

"Robb," she choked out, anguish flooding her features but he had no time to feel guilty now, "how could you say that?"

"I loved that woman, mother. She was the one thing keeping me going in this pathetic war. And now you've taken her because you don't trust me." His time was quiet again, making her feel ashamed.

Catelyn stayed silent at this, her gaze falling and looking everywhere except her sons eyes, that looked so much like her own.

"You're going back to Riverrun." Catelyn's head snapped up at this in shock, widened eyes and gaping mouth.

"Robb-" she began, but he swiftly cut her off.

"Yes. The very sight of you makes me angrier than you can imagine. I love you, mother, but right now you need to get far away from me. Just as you forced Fianna far away from me as well."

He left the tent abruptly after speaking, marching towards his own. Grey Wind stayed behind and growled at Catelyn, making her freeze in terror and not dare to move an inch until he left and followed after his master.

* * *

 _Fianna_

They had been riding for hours on end before Fianna decided to stop her party to camp for the night.

Night had fallen and a fire had been lit to keep them all warm. The air was noticeably cooler than it had been all Fianna's life, considering they were down South.

She sat on one of the logs that the men had retrieved from the nearby woodland, staring absentmindedly into the fire. Chroi was laying by her feet, whimpering. He was aware of his master's mood, and worried for her accordingly.

She didn't look up as she felt a presence sit in the empty space next to her.

"My lady," Ser Mick spoke kindly, but Fianna couldn't bring herself to respond. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Ser Mick," she made out, still not breaking out of her gaze with the fire as her hand stroked Chroi's fur.

"For what it's worth, I'm sure King Robb would have taken you for a wife over a Frey girl any day."

His words were meant to be uplifting, but her face and throat tightened as she forced herself to hold back tears.

"Thanks."

She didn't want to talk about Robb. In fact, she was almost sure if she never even had to hear his name again she'd be perfectly fine. Her mind spoke it often enough for her to come to hate his name.

Ser Mick placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, at this she looked over, her eyes drifting up to his, red rimmed with unshed tears. Fianna allowed a small smile of appreciation towards him.

He removed his hand and she looked back towards the fire, however the slumber didn't last long.

Those that surrounded the fire wearily stood up from their logs when the sound of shouts filled the silent night air that had once only been occupied by the crackle of the fire.

They whirled around, desperately trying to find the source of the ruckus. But it wasn't long until the source found them.

As Fianna was turning, she noticed it then. The glint of moonlight hitting off the sword that was now currently being embedded in one of her men's neck.

Fianna scrambled up to stand on the log and cupped her hands around her mouth before screaming for all to hear, " _WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!_ "

Immediately after, she hopped down and sprinted towards the tent that had been set up for her, her armour already on. She slipped in the mud with her haste and cursed herself for leaving Wolfsbane in her tent, but the longsword was tedious to carry around when not absolutely necessary.

The second her hand wrapped around the hilt, she was running back outside, desperately looking for a man to fight to defend her people.

When she saw the general direction they had been emerging from, she raced towards it, drawing her sword from its sheath and with that, the battle began.

Fianna didn't know who she was fighting, but she had a fair idea. She also knew that if this was Tywin's full force, she wouldn't live to see the morning.

So she swung her sword through her enemies fiercer than she had since Baelfort, the very real chance of death nipping at her heels.

Her sword had become stuck after being embedded into a man's skull, so as he fell to the ground, she placed her foot on his chest and hauled it free.

It was then she noticed him.

He stood tall above the rest, an absolute giant. He was sure to have giants blood in his lineage. It wasn't his height she was focused on however, it was the sigil embedded on the armour on his chest.

She lifted her foot off of the chest of the man she just killed, tearing her eyes away from the beast. Looking down fearfully, her heart almost stopped when she seen three rapid dogs engraved on his breastplate.

There was only one other house other than the Buas who had a dog as their sigil.

Fianna had heard all about the infamous Gregor Clegane and the men he led. They tore through houses, raping women and destroying crops as they went. She began to back up, looking desperately around for Ser Mick.

She saw him then, fending off another man and rushed over to him.

"If I give you a signal, you will finish fighting the man you are battling at that moment and you will find a horse, and _sprint_ back to Robb's camp. You will tell him that we have been taken captive by Gregor Clegane, okay?" She commanded, he nodded quickly - barely given time to respond before she was going back again.

Fianna quickly scurried over to Chroi who was in the process of tearing out a man's jugular. He jumped and snapped his jaws when she put her hand on his back, but calmed when he seen it was his owner.

"You have to go back to Robb's, please," she begged, knowing full well he probably couldn't understand her. So she gently began to shove him in the opposite direction, hoping he would understand.

Chroi whimpered, which broke Fianna's heart and finally turned and began to jog away towards the direction of Robb's camp.

Fianna sighed in relief that he had listened to her, although she was sure that was a painful thing to do, losing him in battle would be ever more so.

The Mountain had spotted her then, and his eyes filled with determination. She stood frozen on the spot after straightening up to her full height, her sword forward in defence as he began tearing his way towards her. He must have killed almost a dozen men on his trip to her, making it look as easy as cutting through a pie.

When he got to her finally he raised his sword and Fianna caught his swing, she was nervous for the first time. More nervous than she had been fighting Jaime Lannister or Yara Greyjoy. And he could tell.

With every swing of his sword, she met with hers but she was taking steps backward each time.

Finally, growing impatient, he lifted his large foot and threw it against her armour clad stomach.

She was not hurt by this, her armour had protected her, but the force behind it threw her backwards until she hit the ground.

The wind was knocked out of her, and before she could even attempt to scramble back to her feet, he lifted his foot again and slammed it down onto her chest. He stood there, holding her to the ground with his foot and as she struggled underneath him, pawing at his leg, he slid his foot up to her neck.

This time, she didn't dare move. She was absolutely sure this would be her end, the slightest bit of force from the beast above her could break her neck.

She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for her death and saying a silent prayer to the gods - for herself, for Robb.

Her eyes flew open as the weight on her neck disappeared, she looked up confusedly and gasped in shock as he gripped the sides of her breastplate and hauled her to her feet. He whipped her around and held her in his arms, placing one of his meaty hands underneath her chin and the other on the top of her head.

"Stop!" He bellowed, causing everyone, Bua and Clegane, to look up at him. "Stop fighting back and drop your swords or I will twist her skull off her neck!"

Tears of panic sprang at Fianna's eyes, she didn't want them to stop fighting to save her life, they would only surely die in response.

She frantically looked around the masses until her eyes met Ser Mick's, she widened her eyes at him and mouthed the word "go", thanking he gods when he used Gregor's distraction to slip away.

"No," she whispered in pain, as she watched the rest of her men slowly drop their swords by their feet, "no!" She shouted at them.

Gregor snickered into her ear, enjoying her distress. He nodded only once to his men, and then the slaughter began. They were absolutely defenceless now, as swords began to plunge into them.

Fianna couldn't hold back and began to sob as she was forced to watch her men die for her. Her body shook in Gregor's grip, but he only laughed harder.

Her eyes zoned in as the Meanma man, who had only pledged his loyalty to her just that morning, was now laying across the ground, limbs twisted and absolutely lifeless.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch any more. This was her fault. This was all her fault. She may not have carried out the killing but the blood was on her hands.

When it was over, the camp was silent, but Fianna dared not to open her eyes.

Gregor removed his grip on her head, and she took a deep breath in, slumping down to her knees as she sobbed harder than she ever had in her life. Harder than when her father had died. In a matter of hours, she was absolutely broken.

"What will you do with her now, my lord?" A man approached Ser Gregor and asked.

"Can't kill her, Lord Tywin has plans for this one," he muttered with a smugness. Lifting up his sword, he rammed the hilt of it into the back of her head until she slumped to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

 _Theon_

"This is rather intrusive, even for the likes of you Theon Greyjoy," Maester Luwin spoke down to him, which Theon found hilarious. A maester dared to think himself better than a prince.

"You will address me as Prince or you will not talk at all, _Maester_ Luwin," he commanded haughtily, smirking at the Maester who had a part in raising him as he continued to sift through the letters.

He had been ransacking Ned's solar, looking through all the scrolls and documents Ned had left in Winterfell and reading them. It was painfully easy to access.

A large wooden box that stored the majority of his documents was now opened and being checked through. Theon would lift a scroll, determine its worthiness, and then either place it to the side or throw it to the other side.

He had been doing this for an hour straight, desperately seeking for something incriminating, ignoring any pangs of guilt as he went.

He looked over at Ned's grand desk and approached it then, roughly beginning to open the drawers and go through them too.

"My _prince,_ " Luwin emphasised, "you are disrespecting a dead lord."

"A lord who has disrespected my family," he retorted defensively.

When he reached the final drawer, he was just about ready to toss the entire thing over in frustration. He tugged it open so hard the whole drawer came out and landed on the floor.

He grunted in annoyance before crouching down. He barely read any of the documents, expecting them not to have any meaning until he found _it._

He had been lazily reading over it but his eyes had suddenly focused on the document when he read the two signatures of the men that had signed it.

His eyes widened in surprise, shock and a sense of excitement filling him. This was unbelievable.

He looked up to Maester Luwin with his cheeky side grin, and proudly spoke, "I hope your ravens are ready for a trip, because I've got something I think everyone should know."

* * *

 **OI OI. I wonder what he found?**

 **For those of you annoyed that Fianna left, I had intentions behind it and they'll come to light. Please remember that Fianna isn't perfect and this book is set in GOT universe so you'll cry and get angry a lot more than you'll be happy.**

 **That said, thanks so much to those that reviewed!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - So do I! Fianna's cousin will play a part but you'll have to see what x**

 **Guest(1) - They didn't give her much of a choice aha**

 **Werewolfs-team - I know right? Goddamn it Catelyn. I'm agreeing even though I wrote it haha, thank you so so much and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Ellie - Catelyn is overly protective of Robb. She used Fianna's mother against to her to weaken her resolve. I'm actually so touched that you reacted so strongly to it because even if you're angry then my intentions are fulfilled! You'll have to wait and see for Tiernan and Ramsay but I hope you enjoyed his chapter!**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - at least my story can you make you react strongly eh? haha**

 **reaganrose115 - because I can ;) and you'll see why!**

 **Shannan - honestly this is the nicest message I've ever received it lifted my spirits up so much the second I read it I went and wrote most of this chapter, thank you so so so much from the bottom of my heart! I'm so happy to hear that you think I've built a realistic relationship built from trust and loyalty because frankly I think Talisa and Robb was the absolute opposite of that and made no sense at all, and I've read other fics where the love is just out of nowhere and instant so I really tried to avoid that. Thank you so so much again and know that you motivated me so much!**

 **Guest(2) - Oh gosh my heart at reading this! That is such a compliment you are so sweet thank you so much! You also motivated me with this story and left such a kindhearted review I can't thank you enough! I hope you continue to enjoy it and everything I have planned!**

 **Jazybear - I'll certainly consider that then! I hope you enjoyed this chapter dear xx**


	13. (XII) A Girl Has a Name

_Song: Which Witch by Florence + The Machine_

 _Fianna_

Her hands were bound together by metal shackles, not that it mattered anyway. Two strong hands had a grip on each of her arms and she was being half dragged forward through the gates.

Gregor led the party, with her directly behind him. When she had awoken, she woke spread on her stomach over his horse. He had no intentions of letting her go any time soon.

When the party dismounted their horses, he flung her off of his horse so hard that the crack of her head against the ground had caused her nose to start bleeding.

She didn't have to guess which stronghold she was in now. Gregor was loyal to Tywin, and Harrenhal wasn't too far from where she had been captured.

Fianna's face was stony, they had seen her break already back at her camp and she wasn't going to let that happen again. No matter how much of a mess she looked at that minute, with puffy eyes, messed hair and scratched cheeks.

They stood in the open square for a few moments until _he_ arrived. Fianna knew exactly who he was the second she saw him.

It was almost like the air seemed cooler when Tywin Lannister arrived. He was intimidatingly tall, with an expression of superiority etched permanently on his face and the slightest of smirks on his lips.

"Ser Gregor, you have outdone yourself," Tywin complimented, nodding his head to his Lord. His voice was cool and frighteningly calm. Fianna was accustomed to the loud, boisterous manners of the northern lords, so this was absolutely foreign to her

Tywin approached her then, stopping when he was in front of her and cupping his hands together behind his back.

"Now, now, is that any way to treat a lady?" He asked of the men who had been tightly holding onto her.

Fianna stayed silent, eyeing the man carefully. He didn't break her stare once, and Fianna was determined to hold it to not appear weak.

"Lady Fianna, what an honour it is to have you as our guest."

At this, Fianna hacked up enough saliva in her mouth as she could and spat right in Tywin's face. He closed his eyes and barely flinched as it hit his cheek and began to trail slowly down it.

"You disagree?" He asked, still not breaking his composure, before he took a handkerchief offered to him by one of his men and wiped Fianna's spit off of his face.

"Take her to her room, I'm sure she'll be far more comfortable there," he commanded, and immediately thereafter the grip on her arms was back.

The two that held her dragged her even more roughly inside, unnecessarily rougher if you ask Fianna. She didn't dare to fight back when she was so heavily outnumbered, so she went along quietly.

They took her down a flight of stairs, grabbing a torched stick along the way to guide them in the dark. When they reached what she supposed was her "room", which was in fact a prison cell, they opened the metal door and all but threw her inside.

She let out a grunt as her body smacked against the concrete ground, putting her hands out to stop her fall.

"Sleep well, dog!" One shouted at her and slammed the cell shut so hard, the sound rang in her ear.

When they left, they took the light with them. So Fianna sat down where she was, her arms wrapped around her legs, too fearful of what could be in the cell if she had moved. Anything from a dead body to shit and piss was entirely plausible.

There, in the dark and utterly alone, she cried again.

* * *

 _Arya_

She had been tasked with her cupbearing duties again, which she preferred to label it, 'eavesdropping on Tywin's plans'.

As she was lifting lumps of mutton onto a large plate, her ears perked up at the mention of Fianna Bua's name.

"Gregor Clegane brought in the Bua girl, I see," one hinted at, trying to see what would become of her surely, but Tywin only hummed in response.

Arya looked up from the food for a second in shock, _how_?

When she brought the plate of mutton over, she placed it down harder than intended, and scurried away quickly after to avoid raising suspicion when they all looked at her in response.

"May I ask what are your intentions with her, my lord?" He pried again, to which Tywin sighed in frustration, sticking his knife through a piece of mutton and lifting it onto his plate.

"Robb Stark is a child," he began, sawing harshly through his meat. "His lords and himself seem to have forgotten that. He will be as hot headed and as rash with his decisions as any boy his age would be, were we to dangle something he loved in front of him."

"So.. you mean to torture her? To ruin her honour?" Arya bit her lip at this as she placed the cooked potatoes onto the table.

"Oh, I intend to do much worse than that," Tywin admitted smugly, lifting his cup of wine to his lips, "I intend to marry the girl."

Arya dropped the entire tray of potatoes she had been holding in shock, causing the entire table to swivel round to look to her. Tywin watched her curiously.

"I'm so sorry, milord, it was an accident," she gushed, shoving the potatoes back onto the plate in her haste to throw it in the bin. The lords ignored her then and tended back to Tywin.

" _Marry_ her?" One asked incredulously.

"Once Robb Stark hears I intend to marry his love, it will be the final push he needs to march on Harrenhal. We are well equipped here to handle his efforts. And who knows, maybe she'll even provide me with a more," he paused, searching for the word," _suitable_ heir. With Jaime being in the Kingsguard and Tyrion, the imp he is," Tywin ranted, sipping from his cup.

When Arya had finished serving out the food, she left the room in a haste. After closing the door, she stood for a moment - her face paled in shock as she desperately tried to think of a way to fix this.

So as slowly as she could walk to avoid suspicion, she made her way towards where she knew the entrance to the crypts were. She stood idly by and inspected it casually. There was a guard by the entrance and there was no passing him, she knew.

The second she reached an alley, she began to sprint. Desperately, she searched for Jaqen H'gar. She didn't want to have to waste her second name on a mere door guard, but she wasn't going to allow Fianna to be subject to this.

She still very much admired her, and if what they said was true and Robb cared for Fianna, she didn't want Robb to advance on Harrenhal.

Arya ran faster when she saw him finally, grabbing him by the arm and spinning him around.

"The man who guards the crypts," she rushed.

"A girl has named a second name," he spoke, "I will do what has to be done."

"Tonight!"

"A girl cannot tell a man when he must do a thing," he protested, to which she grunted childishly.

"Tywin's going to marry Fianna we have to stop him!"

Jaqen sighed in annoyance but nodded his head anyway, moving away and leaving the girl standing there, alone and panicked.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

He didn't like Ramsay Snow, he decided.

Tiernan didn't like to judge, after all he was from a low born family himself. He would never have judged another for being a bastard, it wasn't their fault their parents fucked around.

He just didn't _like_ Ramsay.

Ramsay was haughty, looking down at Tiernan as if _he_ was the true born. Tiernan had heard rumours before that Ramsay had killed Roose Bolton's only trueborn son, and upon meeting him, he could well believe it.

The Bolton party arrived at Baelfort that day, and Tiernan greeted them as was expected of him as the acting Lord of Baelfort.

"The hospitality of Baelfort is yours," Tiernan began, unsure of whether or not to call him 'my lord', "I trust you will want to hold a council soon to discuss Winterfell."

"Indeed," Ramsay had only said in response, dryly. "I see no sense in waiting around at this place, we shall meet now."

Tiernan nodded in response and turned to go back inside of the castle, not waiting to see if Ramsay had followed him. He led through the twisting hallways of Baelfort until he came to the council room.

It wasn't grand in any way, rarely used in fact. Fianna and Cillian had carried out the majority of their duties in their solar.

It had been a while since the Buas were at war, and now the council room was being frequented more often than not. Tiernan seated himself at the end of the table, where the Lord of Baelfort usually sat. What confused him was that instead of sitting aside him, Ramsay sat at the opposite end.

The two faced each other from opposing sides of the table, their eye contact spoke volumes and Tiernan felt as if it were Ramsay he was devising to take down, not Theon Greyjoy.

"Shall we begin?" Tiernan asked after a painfully quiet minute.

"I've rallied 700 men," Ramsay began, "it is said that the Greyjoy forces that hold Winterfell are only 200 in numbers."

"Aye, that's what I've heard too," Tiernan agreed. "I have 400 men here at Baelfort, but I intend to leave 100 here to protect it."

"It is a wonder why you were asked to march at all," Ramsay said as a smirk began to form on his lips.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Tiernan replied defensively.

"I could retake Winterfell with half my force, why King Robb thought it necessary to bring yours as well is a wonder."

"Maybe they just don't trust you enough to take it by yourself," Tiernan got back at him, forming a smirk of his own. He revelled in the fact Ramsay's jaw clenched at that.

"I intend to retake Winterfell for my King, who I am loyal to."

"I wasn't aware Snows had oaths," Tiernan couldn't resist saying. He could tell the bastard was furious at that, obviously being a touchy subject for him. He stayed silent for a moment, giving Tiernan a deadly look before letting out a forced laugh and lifting his index finger, shaking it at Tiernan.

"They always said the Buas were funny."

Tiernan hummed, "You can focus on retaking Winterfell then. But I intend on getting those boys out safely. You know, King Robb's _brothers._ "

"You do that," he agreed, "leave the children for the whet nurse and the fighting for the warriors." This time, it was Tiernan who had been offended.

"Careful," Tiernan warned, "you are a guest here and I haven't offered you food and wine." He played it off as a joke, but they both knew it wasn't. He was referring to the law that stated any guest at a house who ate and drank there could not be harmed.

"Well," Ramsay laughed, "I will take some wine."

Tiernan smiled sarcastically at him and waved to a servant to signal her to fetch it, never taking his eyes off of Ramsay.

* * *

 _Robb_

The day was cooler now as evening approached.

Robb refused to feast with his lords yet again. He wasn't going to eat with his lords and listen to their council and pretend to be merry with them while Fianna was gone. He would rather starve than see her visible absence at dinner. Instead, he chose to eat alone in his tent.

His mother had left hours before. She had approached him before she left, leaning in and attempting to kiss him on the cheek but he had moved his head so she couldn't.

He almost felt guilty for how cold he was in his goodbye to her. But the woman had singlehandedly broke his heart and he wasn't about to forgive her too soon. He needed something to be angry at.

As he finished his meal and whistled for Grey Wind, wanting to take a walk in the night air, he was interrupted by the sound of a dog's bark in the distance. It sounded scarily like Chroi, but Robb knew that Chroi would be with Fianna and far from here by now.

Still, he began to chase the sound, his walk quickly turning to a jog as the barks got louder and louder - almost like it was looking for him too.

He saw him then in the distance, a large mass of grey fur bounding through the camp faster than he had ever seen Chroi run before. Faster than Grey Wind, even.

Chroi didn't stop running until he reached Robb, and when he did, he began to yap anxiously and turn around in circles. When Robb didn't move, trying to figure out why Chroi was here, Chroi began to bark at Robb.

This stirred a reaction from Grey Wind, who stalked forward and started to growl deeply.

"Grey Wind," Robb silenced him, placing his hand on the top of his back to calm him. Grey Wind stopped moving, but remained growling and ready to defend.

When barking didn't work, Chroi began to howl. Chroi rarely ever howled, which was alarming to Robb that he would now.

A flicker in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he looked up to see the Blackfish making his way back to camp at an unusually fast pace.

He had sent his great uncle out with some of his men to watch for scouts, Robb worried at the news Brynden was obviously rushing to give him.

He was on horseback, and there was someone riding alongside of him. A man who looked strangely similar to Ser Mick, who was essentially Fianna's right hand.

"My lord!" He called out before he even reached him, so Robb rushed forward to meet him quicker.

"Why are you here, ser?" Robb asked in a panic, Ser Mick swore to protect Fianna. He would never have left her side.

"It's Fianna, my lord," he rushed as he dismounted off the horse quickly, he spoke breathlessly. His words set a chill in Robb's bones.

"What about Fianna?" He demanded.

"We were riding North, my lord," he began, "when our camp was invaded by Gregor Clegane and his men."

"What?!" Robb exclaimed, his face paling in shock. He knew well enough about Clegane to know that he was a monster. He also knew what he had done to Elia Martell during the sack of King's Landing.

If Fianna had suffered the same fate, he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to live.

"They caught us off guard, she demanded I go to you, my lord."

"Is she alright?!" He shouted, walking close until they were face to face.

"I don't know! When I had left she had been held hostage by him, and he was demanding we all drop our swords before he take her head! I just made it out!"

Robb scraped his hands through his hair, his face reddening as he held in an outburst.

 _"FUCK!"_ He screamed louder than he ever dared in his short, summer life.

Brynden looked at his great nephew in pity, while Mick still had the same look of panic on his face.

"Is there anything you else you know?" Robb asked after a few moments of silence as he tried to calm himself down. His eyes were glazed over, his expression twisted with stress and his hair askew.

"No, my lord..." Mick answered, disappointed with himself.

Robb nodded his head once and then stalked back towards his tent, Chroi and Grey Wind following after him.

When he reached his tent, he placed his hands down on his table and cried.

He cried for Winterfell, for Bran and Rickon and at that moment, he cried mostly for Fianna.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"You're a rather feisty one aren't you," Tywin commented as Fianna sat at his table. It was dinner time, and Fianna had been fetched from her cell. Her hands were bound to the arms of her chair by rope and she hadn't spoken a single word to Lord Tywin yet, who was eating happily next to her.

A small, thin serving girl had been serving them their meals. A plate had been placed in front of Fianna, almost mockingly so. She obviously wasn't able to eat with her hands bound.

"I'm equally as feisty with a sword, were you to hand me one," she replied dryly.

"I don't doubt it. Lady Fianna of House Bua, a strong household you hail from, my lady." She supposed it was a compliment, but there was no telling what anything Tywin Lannister said truly meant.

"I know."

"Known for their battle strategies and handsomeness," she sighed internally, looking up towards the ceiling - feeling entirely exasperated by the man's mere presence. "Also known for their strong ladies."

"If you brought me here to kiss my arse, I'll gladly expose it for you to do so."

"Strong ladies as in strong breeding capabilities, of course," he continued. At this, Fianna froze. Of all the things Tywin could have said to her, that was the last thing she had been prepared for.

She looked up and made eye contact with the serving girl. The girl widened her eyes when Fianna's met hers, but didn't break the stare. It was like she was trying to convey something to Fianna with her eyes.

Fianna narrowed her eyes in confusion at her, but she had turned her gaze away then. Probably to avoid rousing suspicion. Fianna eyed her carefully then, did she know this girl?

"I wouldn't know, my lord. I have no children," she gritted out, entirely uncomfortable.

"You will have, some day."

"Oh, I apologise," she said with fake remorse, "I heard that you shit gold, not that you're psychic."

Tywin ignored this, and instead asked, "I'm sure you're wondering why you are here, and not at the mercy of Ser Gregor?"

Fianna didn't reply. She didn't have to, the question was rhetorical and he told her anyway.

"I have plans for you of my own, plans that will need you relatively unharmed and pure."

"Do enlighten me," she rolled her eyes, her gaze fixed on the table.

"My late wife died in childbirth with my youngest son, and it has been ever so long since I've taken another wife," at this Fianna's head snapped up. She fought against the bile rising up from her stomach and the shivers of disgust that threatened to shake her.

"Well," she licked her suddenly dry lips as she tried to respond, "I hope that you have another family member that you find suitable for you."

Tywin ran his tongue over his teeth and set his knife and fork down, staring dangerously at the much younger girl.

"You'd be honoured to marry a Lannister, girl. Don't forget you are a Bua, you don't get the luxury of power and power is exactly what I possess," he spoke down to her, his fingers locked together and elbows resting on the table.

"Power is fleeting," was all she replied.

"My lord," a man entered the room and interrupted, Fianna kept her fierce gaze on Lord Tywin until he exited the room to meet with the man.

The second he was out of a sight she let out a deep breath and began to hyperventilate, the panic of the situation she was in finally reaching her. She was being held captive, by a man who had full intentions of taking her as a bride. With no allies or escape plans.

"Fianna," the servant girl rushed to her side, crouching down beside her and shushing her quickly. "He plans to marry you so Robb will march on Harrenhal."

Fianna looked over incredulously at the girl, not trusting her for a second. "Who are you?" She asked between her quick breaths.

"I'm Arya Stark, of Winterfell."

Fianna's breathing slowed after hearing that, her eyes widening as the fear of Tywin was overtaken by the shock of the girl's claims.

"You're lying," Fianna accused, "Arya Stark is in King's Landing."

"No, I escaped after my father was executed. They don't know who I am, they think I'm just a lowborn girl."

"Arya..." Fianna looked over the girl's face, and she decided she could see the resemblance between her and Bran. The dark eyes and hair, even the set of their jaw. But she wouldn't have trusted the girl if not for the fierce look in her eyes.

"I'm going to get you out of here," she stated.

"Arya, you can come with me! Come back to Robb's camp with me, he'll be proper fucking happy to see you, girl," Fianna gushed excitedly, a newfound sense of hope renewing in her.

For the first time in months, a small smile lifted Arya's lips at this. The thought of being back in the arms of safety, and seeing her mother and brother again felt like a gift truly granted by the gods.

"I will come to your cell tonight and free you, and then we will leave this place," Arya told her, ushering back to her spot on the other side of the table as she heard Tywin approaching the room.

"Now," he began as he made his way towards his seat again, "have you reconsidered my offer? Not that you had much of a decision."

"I'd sooner marry the imp," Fianna smirked at him, looking Tywin up and down in disgust.

"That can be arranged," Tywin said smugly, calling out for his guard outside of the door to come inside and 'escort' Fianna back to her cell.

She didn't dare to look towards Arya as she was ushered out, for fear of Tywin noticing. But she left the room feeling a lot more confident than she could have even imagined being at that moment in time.

Arya Stark was going to help her, and she was going to be ready.

* * *

 **Who doesn't love some Arya and Fianna? Talk about girl power.**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed it means the world to me!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - Well... at least the Mountain didn't do anything right?**

 **reaganrose1315 - BECAUSE I SAID SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO aha xx**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - Heartbreaking writing that part to be honest, i felt like bloody George RR Martin in the flesh**

 **Ellie - Robb wasn't about to let her away with that one! I love reading your reactions to everything that happens!**

 **Shannan - TEAR THE B**** APART ROBB. Hey Tywin's plans are shit but at least the mountain won't get her am I right? I hope you enjoyed this chapter! x**

 **Werewolfs-team - Like I said I was major channelling GRRM for a minute haha!**

 **Jazybear - I hope you enjoyed this chapter dear xx**


	14. (XIII) Raucous Revelations

_Song: Chick Habit by April March (just because if this was a modern AU this would be the ultimate Arya/Fianna ass kicking theme)_

 _Fianna_

Fianna didn't sleep a wink that night. Well, she thought it was night. It was hard to tell with how dark the crypts were.

When she began to cramp up sitting on the cold ground, she stood and began to pace anxiously around the cell. As she walked, she was internally panicking. What if the girl was an imposter, tasked with tormenting her and filling her with false hope?

Finally, after what felt like years, she heard the sound of footsteps echo throughout the deadened halls. Surprisingly, Fianna wasn't surrounded by other prison cells - which confused her. She knew that Tywin had taken hostages after he fought Roose Bolton's force months before. Perhaps they had been kept in a different area to her.

The flicker of a light began to flood through the hall and Fianna desperately stuck her head up to the bars of the cell door, trying to see out.

A face appeared suddenly, which frightened her enough to cause her to take a few steps back. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as the unknown man reached down and opened up her cell door.

He wasn't old by any means, and he had a certain handsomeness about him. Even if his hair was long and shaggy, with a random streak of blonde to the side of his head.

"Who the fuck are you?" Fianna asked defensively, taking a couple of steps back.

"A man who has come to save you," he replied, with an accent to his voice she couldn't decipher.

Fianna was mistrusting at first, until Arya's head poked around and revealed herself to Fianna, "come on let's go!"

Fianna sighed with relief at the sight of the youngest Stark girl and rushed quickly out after that. Her longsword was taken somewhere in Harrenhal, but Fianna reckoned her ancestors would forgive her for leaving it behind.

As they rushed outside, it was quiet. Too quiet, in her opinion, and Fianna worried again then if this was all just a ruse.

"What now?" Fianna asked in a rushed tone, hunched slightly as she kept glancing around for any guards.

"I have rope," Arya held out her hand to show the wound up line of rope she held, "we're going to scale the wall."

"Fuck," Fianna swore, "you don't do things by half do you?"

Fianna followed Arya as she knew where she was going. They reached the wall then, and Fianna jumped when she noticed two young boys, one being around her age, standing next to a set of stone stairs.

"Finally," the rather thinner one complained, shrugging off the wall he had been leaning against and uncrossing his arms from his chest.

"Who are these two?" Fianna asked curiously, gesturing between the two strangers.

"They're friends, don't worry," Arya explained, and Fianna nodded her head to them, awkwardly smiling in politeness.

They trailed up the of stairs to get to the top of Harrenhal's walls, crouched low. Sentries were positioned on each corner of the walls of Harrenhal, but with it being dark and with the space they had left undefended, they could have slipped away easily, if they're careful. The guards were prepared for an attack, but not for an escape.

"Hot Pie will you come on!" Arya complained, looking down the staircase in exasperation.

"We're going to get caught!" He whispered loudly back, causing Arya to groan lowly and fly back downstairs quickly to convince him, the other boy followed after her.

Fianna was alone then, she hadn't a notion where the man with the white streak had gone to, which made her uneasy.

She distracted herself by starting to tie the rope to the wooden railing next to the stairs so they could scale down safely. She had been so focused on the intensity of the knots she hadn't noticed a silent creeping figure coming from behind her.

"Who goes there?!" He yelled suddenly, and Fianna could see Arya, Hot Pie and Gendry's head snapped up in panic. She widened her eyes at Arya and jerked her head to the side slightly to get her to leave while she wasn't seen yet.

Fianna stood and held her hands in the air, dropping the rope and turning to the sentry, "Sorry, dear. I saw an opportunity."

"The prisoner is escaping!" He shouted suddenly, alerting the other sentries. Fianna responded by curling her hand into a fist and sending it sailing towards the man's throat, which knocked the wind out of him.

As he reached up and clutched his neck, trying to catch his breath again, Fianna lifted her elbow and knocked it into his face, as she was taught. Fianna was rarely ever going to be able to match a male opponent in terms of height and mass, so she was taught how to defend herself using the strongest parts of her body.

Her elbow had hit his nose with a sickening crunch, blood immediately starting to spurt out of it. While he was distracted with this, Fianna reached out and wrapped her hand around the hilt of his sword, ripping it out and sending it sailing into his stomach.

She whirled around then as the creaks of footsteps on wood sounded out, to see two more coming towards her. But instead of running away, she marched forward to meet them with the stolen sword in her hand.

Fianna lifted her leg and kicked out at one, sending him soaring backwards. The other guard had his sword drawn too, but with every swing he flung Fianna caught it.

Finally she began to swing back and he was forced to defend, Fianna buried the sword into his neck the first chance she got.

As the other man was ready to jump her, she raised her new sword again to continue her onslaught but stopped at the feeling of steel against the side of her head.

"Drop it," a voice called out from behind her.

Fianna squeezed her eyes shut, cursing herself. She had no choice but to drop the sword and yield, but the sword did not leave the side of her head.

"You won't kill me," she stated.

"There are things worse than death, my girl," he replied, reaching out and gripping her by her long locks of hair. Fianna cried out as her head was pulled backwards.

"How did you escape?" He demanded in a shout, dragging her by the hair to face him.

"Some dumb cunt left the door unlocked," she smirked at him through the pain. He grunted angrily and dragged her back down the stairs, Fianna was sure to have bruises as her limbs battered against everything nearby.

Even though her eyes watered with pain, she still looked desperately around when they were back at ground level, making sure Arya wasn't caught.

They were no where to be seen, thank the gods. Fianna would take a beating from the guards over Arya getting killed for trying to break her free, any day.

* * *

 _Arya_

She cursed Hot Pie out for an hour straight, blaming it all on him and his cowardliness. She had sacrificed her second name to free Fianna and escape to her brother's camp, and Hot Pie had gone and ruined it. Who knows, if they had been up there when Fianna was found maybe they'd have been able to fight the guards off long enough to escape.

Arya cursed herself too for not just leaving him behind, but she knew she just couldn't do that. When she heard the guards capture Fianna, Gendry dragged them all behind some conveniently placed barrels, and they didn't dare move until the coast was clear.

"What am I going to do?" She asked Gendry in a panic, scraping a hand through her dirty hair.

"Relax, Arya, we will figure it out," he assured her, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked uncomfortable doing so, and Arya reckoned he never had to comfort a girl before.

When the next day dawned, as usual she was due to fill the cups of the war council.

"Kings Landing will fall an hour after Stannis lands his force," the loud one was speaking. Arya wondered where he had mustered the courage to speak to Tywin in such a manner. "It's not too late for King Joffrey and Cersei and the court to ride west to safety."

"Surrender the iron throne?" Tywin drawled sarcastically.

"Better than seeing their heads mounted on the city gates! Stannis will execute than all!"

 _Good_ , Arya thought bitterly. Oh, if the Gods could hear her thoughts.

"No," Tywin disagreed, "a king who runs will not be king for long. He's a Lannister, he'll stand and fight."

Tywin stood up abruptly and paced to the fireplace, looking into the fire with such an intensity, Arya wondered which was stronger - him or the flames.

"Stannis two days from the capital and the wolf at my doorstep."

 _A wolf is closer than your doorstep._

"Scouts assured us Robb Stark remains North of Ashemark-"

"The last time the scouts _assured_ us of Robb Stark's movement, he lured us into a trap. He's bound to have heard word of the Bua girl being captured, if only he'd become a man and march to take her back. But no, he rests entirely too close to Casterly Rock," Tywin ranted, visible signs of stress on his face. It appeared war was getting even to the strongest of the lords.

"He sent a splinter force to recapture Winterfell, the Greyjoys have done us a great favour. Stark won't risk marching on Casterly Rock."

"He's a boy and he's never lost a battle. Unless he marches on Casterly Rock as retaliation for the destruction of the Bua force, he'd have risked anything at any time had we not captured the girl. Now there's no telling what he'll do."

Tywin turned and leaned against the fireplace for a moment before pushing off and returning to his chair at the head of the table.

"We'll ride at nightfall," he spoke and Arya's eyes and mouth widened considerably in surprise. "I want a full nights march before he knows we're on the move. Clegane, you'll maintain a garrison here at Harrenhal. Track down this brotherhood and destroy them. The girl has proven a good servant she'll stay on with you."

"And what of the Bua girl, my lord?" Clegane replied, and Arya looked to Tywin expectantly for an answer.

"She's coming with us, I intend to marry her to my son Tyrion instead. I figure it would be more of an insult to the wolf pup were we to marry the girl to an imp rather than a highborn lord."

Arya slowly started to back out of the room as their talks came to an end. She needed a plan and she needed one _now._

She couldn't find Jaqen anywhere, and when she did - night had fallen and he was just returning from a patrol.

"A girl owes one more name, the Red God demands it," Jaqen requested of her, which she was more than happy to give.

"How long after I give you a name does it take you to kill someone?" She asked desperately.

"A minute, a day, a month. Death is certain, time is not." He replied cooly.

"Tywin. He's taking his army to attack my brother, I need him dead right now!" She demanded.

"This a man cannot do."

"You promised you'd help me!"

"Help was not promised, only death. There must be others, give a name. Any name."

"Jaqen H'gar." She replied in a flat tone.

"A girl gives a man his own name?" He replied incredulously. "This is no joking thing."

"I'm not joking, a man can go kill himself."

"Unname me," he threatened.

"No."

"Please."

"Okay, I will."

"Thank you."

" _If_ you help me and my friends _and_ Lady Fianna escape." She smiled smugly.

"If I do this thing, a girl will obey." He conceded.

"A girl will obey."

"A girl will walk through the gates with the others at midnight."

* * *

 _Robb_

"Still no word? We've sent a dozen ravens," Robb complained to Lord Bolton. He was holding a council meeting, discussing everything from Winterfell to Harrenhal.

"Still no word," Roose informed him grimly, "but my bastard and Tiernan Bua have just departed Baelfort. They'll soon be at Winterfell. Once they retake Winterfell-"

"Theon has my brothers," Robb interjected as a stark reminder.

"He wouldn't dare hurt the boys, they're his only hope of escaping the North with his head," Roose assured him.

"Send word to Tiernan and your son, any ironborn who surrenders will be allowed to return safely to their homes."

"A touch of mercy is a virtue, your grace," Roose replied, mildly appalled at the suggestion, "too much."

"With the exception of Theon Greyjoy," he added. "He betrayed me. And we will hunt him down wherever he goes."

"Your pardon, your grace," they were interrupted by the entrance of Ser Mick, Fianna's knight.

"Do, come in, Ser," Robb said politely, rubbing his forehead with pent up stress. The other lords took this as a cue to exit the tent and leave their king to it.

"How are you?" Mick asked politely, which prompted an outburst from Robb.

"How am I?! I've sent my mother away for sending the woman I love away, who's being held a hostage by my greatest enemy and if men are to be believed, she will be wed to him. The Bua force was slaughtered. The Lannisters have my sisters. The man I considered my closest friend has seized my home and my brothers. I'm fighting a war and I don't know whether I should march and save the woman I love or my brothers _or_ my sisters."

When he finished his rant, he rested his elbows on the table and began to rub his eyes harshly. His face had reddened from the outburst and Ser Mick was silenced, ashamed for even asking.

"You've got a lot of shit on your plate," he whistled finally, causing Robb to look at him in confusion for his lack of formality. "But the question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Robb shook his head, entirely at a loss as his gaze was pinned to the map of Westeros that he had looked over so many times, he knew every nook in the kingdom's outlines.

"I have to get her back."

* * *

 _Theon_

The smell of burnt flesh filled his nostrils and made his stomach heave with every whiff. They were outside, and still the smell of the burnt bodies were overpowering.

They got lucky with the farmer's boys, they were similar in age to Bran and Rickon. Their bodies would be too badly burnt for anyone to properly distinguish that they weren't actually the young lords.

He stood with his arms crossed over his chest as his men hauled the bodies by rope into the air, for all to see. It was beside the gate too so that would be a welcoming sight for anyone who was to visit.

He tossed a gold coin to Dagmer and muttered, "give that to the farmer."

Dagmer only grunted in response, shoving it in his pocket. Theon wasn't even sure he would give him the gold coin, knowing him - he wasn't the most respectful towards his prince.

"Have the ravens been sent?" He asked.

"Yes, your grace," Dagmer replied.

"Good, inform the maester than when the birds return they are to be killed. We don't want word of this getting out to anyone." Theon nodded his head towards the burnt and charred bodies.

"Don't want the whole North after your head?" He asked cheekily, smirking at him to which Theon glared in response.

* * *

 _ **I, Theon Greyjoy, heir to Balon Greyjoy and Prince of the Iron Islands, hereby declare Robb Stark an oathbreaker. From whence he swore an oath to Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, to marry his daughter in exchange for crossing the Twins and men, the oath has been proved void. A document discovered has detailed that King Robb Stark has been betrothed to Fianna Bua, Lady of Baelfort, signed and sealed by their lord fathers, Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Cillian Bua. The oath to Walder Frey is therefore void, and Robb Stark must answer to the gods themselves - which he swore in the name of.**_

* * *

 **FINALLY AM I RIGHT?**

 **Not much happening in this chapter but it's all to come I promise!**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!**

 **Rhatch89 - thank you! I hope you enjoyed this one. x**

 **Guest - ...seriously? Stop reading it then. Because this isn't going to be one of those stories where nothing dramatic happens it's a fucking GoT story. EVERYTHING in GoT is horrible and dramatic. I'm gonna write what I think is interesting and I'm not going to write the two characters getting into a relationship and being happy for chapters on end without anything happening because that's boring as fuck. If you expected this to be one where Robb and Fianna cuddle for the entire story then be off with you because I'm gonna drag them through fucking hell. It's not "pointless" drama there's meaning behind everything I write in this story. But like I said, if you don't like it and you're not into that then you're more than welcome to stop reading.**

 **JazyBear - I loooove Fianna and Arya together I have plans for the both of them later on in the book because I just can't resist, she's like the sister Fianna never had. I can't help but love Tywin either he's an absolutely amazing character and Charles Dance portrays him perfectly! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. x**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - ...oops!**

 **asdfghjklerica - I'm glad you like it! I agree, them snogging and getting together right after is a bit boring and too fast for them I reckon. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **lilnightmare17 - thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed this and continue to enjoy it! x**

 **reaganrose1315 - ahah you'll just have to wait and find out!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I agree I loooove Tywin's character he's probably one of the best in the series he's so complex and calculating! Tiernan will have a part to play in that but you'll have to wait and see what it is!**

 **StarkTeller - I don't wanna solely hate Talisa because it was Robb too but like it was just really bad writing in my opinion! Her character wasn't interesting and it didn't make sense how they got together after like two conversations I mean... really. At least with Jeyne he was protecting her honour that I'd understand! And thank you for pointing that out! I know it's supposed to be 'your grace' I just messed up I get jumbled up when I have to write "your grace" or "your lord" at the end of every sentence but thank you for pointing it out x**

 **Shannan - I know right? I couldn't wait for them two to meet. Thank you so much for your kind words!**

 **Ellie - You were right about that, Tywin wouldn't marry Fianna. But Robb doesn't know that, of course. ;) thanks so much for your review! I hope you like this chapter love! x**


	15. (XIV)Brilliant Bonds, Bizarre Betrothals

_Song: Heaven Knows by The Pretty Reckless (Another Arya and Fianna anthem)_

 _Fianna_

This time around, her hands and feet were bound by shackles as she was held once again in her cell. Routinely, a guard would come every 30 minutes or so and peer through the door, making sure she was still there.

Every time he would look in, Fianna would be standing there in the dead centre of the room and smiling smugly. Calling out, a sarcastic "hello!"

This went on for hours, and Fianna still stood there. Her legs were aching from standing so long but her determination far outweighed her pain. And her need to pee.

The Lannister forces were due to depart at one in the morning, so they would have to be quick about it. This was their only chance to escape, because if Fianna was to be separated from Arya - there was no guarantee she'd ever have another friend again.

Arya had been the one to deliver her food to her that day. She slyly slipped a note into Fianna's lumpy gruel that she brought down to her cell. The only thing it said was "midnight". Fianna ate the paper whole to avoid it being found, and because she had no intentions of eating the food.

She didn't know if that meant Arya was coming to get her or if that meant she had to leave at midnight, but she took no chances, the next time the guard would come around - she'd be ready.

So when the light shone down the hall again, signifying his impending arrival, Fianna was already waiting quietly in the shadows. She had her back pressed tightly to the stone wall next to the cell door, there was no way she would be seen.

He peered through again, almost lazily as he expected her to be where she had been for hours.

"What the-" he stammered in confusion, peering around the cell and pushing the lantern closer to the bars. When he was sure the cell was empty, he reached for his keys and opened it up to make sure.

That was a mistake.

The second he entered two steps into the room, Fianna jumped from the shadows and wrapped her shackles around his neck.

"Hello!" She grumbled this time as she brought her wrists back towards her, effectively squeezing his throat and cutting off his air supply.

It was brutal, the way he clawed at his throat and flailed his limbs about desperately. Fianna's wrists burned with the pressure of the shackles against her skin and it would surely leave behind marks.

After a few painfully long minutes, he finally fell limp in Fianna's arms, and she flung him towards the ground. She picked up the dropped lantern, thanking the gods it wasn't broken and began to rifle through his pockets for the keys to her shackles with her free hand.

Her breathing hitched when she finally found them, setting down the lantern and opening the shackles restricting her feet first, before then moving onto her wrists.

They fell to the ground with a clang, and Fianna kept the keys in case she should reach more locked doorways. Quick as she could, she tugged the belt and attached scabbard off of him that held his sword and tied it around her own. She had been stripped from her armour and now only wore a raggedy dress.

Picking up the lantern, she all but sprinted from her cell, barefoot.

Her feet scuffed against the cold ground but adrenaline prevented her from feeling anything. When she reached the staircase and seen the moonlight above, she set the lantern down and slowly made her way up.

Without making a sound, she gently pulled the sword from its scabbard.

Two guards were now positioned at the entrance, where there had only been one before, but Fianna was too fuelled by adrenaline and a need to escape that she didn't even falter at the challenge.

She lifted her sword as she neared closer and swung around, burying it into one guards neck and severing his head completely off his body. The other let out a shout of surprise and moved to get out his sword but she quickly reared around and dug the sword into his skull with a sickening crunch.

"Fianna?" A voice called out in confusion, and she whirled around to see Arya, Gendry and Hotpie - all standing there with clear looks of confusion.

"What? You said midnight?" She shrugged, moving to catch up with them. She shoved her new sword back into its sheath. She was absolutely freezing in the cold night air and it was only exacerbated by the fact she had nothing but a thin dress over her frame.

"I was going to get you, you could have saved yourself the trouble," she replied stubbornly, turning and leading them all.

"A little girl telling me that I should have let her kill people instead of myself, never thought I'd see the day," Fianna spoke sarcastically.

"I'm not a little girl!" She grumbled.

"Would you prefer little boy?" she reached out and roughly ruffled her hair, to which Arya reached up and batted her hand away. Although she couldn't deny, it reminded her a lot of when Jon used to do exactly that, which was slightly comforting.

"It's treason to hit a princess," Arya joked when she was sure Hot Pie was too far behind to hear her. Fianna's step faltered when she heard the young girl say something that Robb had spoke so many times to her. So she stayed silent thereafter, reeling from it.

They reached the main gate and Arya crouched down behind crates of wooden boxes, gesturing for them to follow.

Arya had a small bag over her shoulder, she dropped down and opened it up, tugging out some clothes and a large hooded cloak. She handed them over to Fianna.

"Gods, thank you!" Fianna replied and took them from her.

"Woah!" Gendry called out when Fianna lifted her dress over her head immediately and exposed her naked body for the three to see.

"Oh shut up," Fianna rolled her eyes, quickly pulling on the breeches and top, drawing their strings together. She then donned the dark cloak, thankful for the warmth it provided. She lifted the hood over her head to hide her face and hair from others. "No shoes in that bag by any chance?" She asked hopefully, but Arya only shook her head apologetically.

"The sour cherries are all crushed up and ready," Hot Pie sighed wistfully, they had been waiting for a short time.

Fianna had been sitting with her back against a crate, while Arya and Gendry stared directly towards the gate.

"Shut up," Gendry replied.

"Probably in the pie crust by now," he spoke again.

"Shut up," Fianna muttered and shot her foot out and hit it against his in warning.

"In the oven, a nice warm oven," he still went on, causing Arya to break out of her gaze with the gate to tell him to shut up as well.

"What did you bring?" She continued.

"The cheese could be better," causing them all to roll their eyes. Hot Pie's obsession with food while they were about to risk their lives escaping was getting frustrating, especially hearing the sound of horses whinnying signalling the men were prepping them for travel soon. "I do have some nice sausages."

"What's he gonna do about those guards?" Gendry ignored him and asked Arya.

"He didn't say, he just said walk through the gates."

"Who?" Fianna asked in confusion, but Arya didn't answer her.

"Yeah but what about the guards?" Gendry asked again.

"He didn't say anything about the guards."

"Oh what he left that bit out? That's a pretty important part don't you think?"

"We have to trust him."

"Trust him? You trusted him to fight with us and you set him free and he ran!"

"What in the gods name is going on?" Fianna asked again, impatiently.

"I wanna go back to the kitchens," Hot Pie whined.

"Shut up," Arya cut him off, "stay here if you're afraid."

They all looked up as Arya stood up and began to walk towards the gate.

"Arry don't!" Gendry whispered as Fianna reached out and desperately tried to grab her and pull her back. Fianna grunted frustratedly and got up to follow after her, tugging at her hood to make sure it concealed her and chased after her, prompting Gendry and Hot Pie to follow.

Their pace slowed as they walked closer to the gates, Fianna gripped the hilt of her new sword tighter and anxiously glanced up at the guards. However when they neared the gate it became clear how they were going to escape. Each of the guards had been speared by a sword, the sword angled through their body in such a fashion that it held their dead bodies upright to appear as if they were alive.

The gate had been opened already, and in a moment of vulnerability, Arya reached out and grabbed onto Fianna's forearm as they exited Harrenhal.

Fianna reached over with her other hand and tightly covered it over Arya's, the two girls leaning on each other as they exited.

None of them dared speak until they were out of sight of the stronghold and into the woods, just as they heard the sound of voices as Tywin's army was preparing to leave. Finally, Arya and Fianna let go of each other and Fianna looked down and smiled at her.

"Come on, we've got a brother of yours to find."

* * *

 _Catelyn_

When she arrived at Riverrun with her party, her brother met her with a grave expression on his face.

Her eyebrows had furrowed in confusion, and immediately she worried for her father, Hoster. Had the gods cruelly taken him before she had a chance to say goodbye?

She dismounted her horse quickly and walked over to meet her brother.

"Edmure," she greeted with a nod, to which he responded to with a nod of his own.

"Catelyn." His voice was cool, before he turned and extended an arm towards her for her to follow after him. "Come, there's been news."

"Our father?" She asked desperately, moving to follow after him inside.

"He's... well. For now. He grows more ill by the day, I would say you are here in time for any talks you wish to have with him."

Catelyn sighed in relief, and followed after Edmure until they reached the solar. It had once belonged to her father, but with his recent illness, Edmure was now making use of it.

"There's been a raven," he began, crossing to go behind his desk and retrieve the small scroll, "from Winterfell."

"Winterfell?" She gasped, placing a hand on her stomach, "well hand it over, are my sons okay?"

She reached and snatched the scroll from Edmure's hands, preparing herself for the worst. When she read the contents, she realised it hadn't been the worst possible news to come from Winterfell - but it wasn't exactly good either.

Her face paled when she finished reading it, slowly lowering her arms and placing it down gently on the desk.

"Did you know of this?" Edmure asked. Catelyn took a whole minute to respond.

"Yes," she gritted out, her teeth grinding in frustration and shame, and partly fear for Robb's reaction.

"This has been sent to every half powerful house in Westeros. I've heard whispers of how there is now doubt of Robb's position as King, when he has broken a sacred vow."

Catelyn shook her head, "he knew nothing of it. I never told him of the betrothal, neither did Ned." She paused for a moment, looking down in shame. "The girl's father had wanted to delay telling them so she could deal with his death. When Ned departed for King's Landing, he never got the chance."

"Well, that's not what Walder Frey will believe," Edmure shook his head, judgement clear on his face, "why wouldn't _you_ tell him, Cat?"

"How could I?" She snapped, her anger showing. "Arya and Sansa were held hostage, Ned was held for treason and Robb had never fought a battle in his life. Fianna Bua was contributing men to his cause out of fealty, Walder Frey held no oaths for House Stark. Am I a fool for encouraging a betrothal that would add _thousands_ of men to his cause?!"

Edmure sighed, and walked around the table. He placed his hand on her shoulder and comfortingly squeezed, "you're no fool, Cat. But what you have done is absolutely foolish. And there will be consequences to this."

* * *

 _Robb_

They stopped mid-ride on their journey to Harrenhal for a short break. Each of the men were bursting to make water and all ached from the length of the journey they just had.

Robb stalked off into the woods, the scroll in hand, to do some thinking before he would return to his men. He reached a small river stream and got down onto his knees, cupping water in his hands and splashing it onto his face.

He sat there by the rocks for a while after, reading the words over and over. A lump had formed in his throat and he was holding himself back from crying, trying to appear strong. Robb knew if Fianna had been there she would chastise him for it, but the simple fact was that she wasn't here.

He felt betrayed, in truth. His mother's deceit had shocked him to his core and truly wounded him. With the world in the state it was now, he thought his mother was the one he'd be able to trust the most. The two had always had a strong bond. Robb was close to both of his parents, but himself and his mother shared a bond like no other.

She stood there, lied to his face, made him feel humiliated for simply feeling something and then had the audacity to force her to leave.

Robb thought that perhaps the Gods had intended Fianna for Robb. Truly, what were the chances of him falling for his betrothed - not knowing that she was his betrothed?

"Your grace," Ser Mick called out, moving into the small clearing to join Robb. Robb stood up abruptly, annoyed that he was caught in a moment of weakness.

Robb cleared his throat, "Ser." He paused for a moment, looking down to his feet before looking up again, "did you know?"

"No, your grace. I had never heard word of it before now," Mick shook his head, crossing over and sitting down next to where Robb had been seated. He sat down again tentatively. "I would never have put Lady Fianna through the pain had I known."

"Was she? In pain?" Robb asked.

"I think the only time she wasn't in pain was when she was with you."

Robb dropped his head at this.

"The Frey forces have departed from us."

"I heard," Mick replied. "So you won't be honouring the oath to Lord Frey?"

"How can I?" Robb asked with a sharp intake of breath. "The truth is, I'd have given all of my army to marry that girl. And now I've been informed that my father and hers had intended for that this whole time."

"Walder Frey is a dangerous man to cross," Mick warned.

"I know that."

"So you mean to do it then? Honour your original betrothal?"

"I love her," Robb admitted quietly.

"If you weren't betrothed, I'd tell you it's a bad idea. I'd tell you that love isn't a factor you get the luxury of considering when it comes to marriage. But as it happens, I've come to care for the girl. I want her to be happy and I want her to feel the love her father and yours did. Fianna will make a good Lady, your grace."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Robb smiled softly, thinking of her. The idea of her ruling the North and Winterfell at his side made his heart thump.

"The Freys have left, its clear they see the oath as void. People are already doubting your honourability and whether you marry her or not will not change that. Fianna is knowledgeable beyond her years. We have a King, maybe what the North needs now is a Queen."

"A queen," Robb murmured, testing the word out. Fianna would make a great queen, he thought. She was strong, fierce and smart. But she was also beautiful, kind and just. Perhaps she'd even make a better King than him.

He couldn't wait to see the day she'd reign by his side, because he was sure she would.

* * *

 **Can I just reiterate** _ **again**_ **that I love Arya and Fianna's fictional friendship?**

 **I react over my own story I'm such a twat. I also finished writing this completely hungover so if anyone sees a typo or anything please point it out!**

 **Anyways, I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks to those who reviewed on the last one! I love hearing everyones theories on what's going to happen and how Fianna, Tiernan and the betrothal are going to change the GoT storyline.**

 **Hiiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - see! I was nice and let her escape!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - thank you so so much! I look forward to your reviews every chapter you are very sweet! x**

 **RHatch89 - thank you! x**

 **Shannan - thank you so much for your review I love hearing your theories! And this is late but happy belated birthday! I hope you had a good one! xx**

 **reaganrose115 - because I can ;)**

 **StarkTeller - It was apparently someone already reading the book so it wasn't exactly a troll, but I couldn't resist replying anyway. I feel like the red wedding probably was going to happen with Roose being a traitor and Tywin after him but you'll just have to see how it goes down in this book!**

 **Jazybear - thanks so much! I hope you enjoyed this one. x**

 **Werewolfs-team - I hope you enjoyed this one!**


	16. (XV) Ready Reunions

_Song: Oceans by Seafret_

 _Tiernan_

As each day passed, he grew less and less trusting of Theon. He closed his eyes in annoyance and held himself back when that damned horn sounded out again. The Bolton's rang out a horn every once in a while to "intimidate the Ironborns".

He didn't know if it had intimidated them, but he did know he was ready to break the horn bearer in half.

When they finally approached Winterfell, Ramsay had kindly "suggested" that the Bua forces surround the walls while his own infiltrated Winterfell. Like they didn't deserve to be at the forefront of the battle.

Tiernan had kindly "reminded" him that his priority was the Stark boys, not to capture escaped Ironborns that managed to slip through their fingers.

In the end, Ramsay had won out. The Greyjoy force was minuscule compared to theirs, they didn't necessarily need Tiernan and his men on the inside fighting. It made Tiernan's skin itch. He knew that they were wrong to trust the Bolton's, even if they didn't do anything in particular to make him feel that way. Growing up as a lowborn son made him distrustful and eliminated any naivety he had.

So he waited patiently outside, the sounds of shouts and clambering echoing from the walls of Winterfell like ghosts. There were few who escaped and those who did were taken by the Bua force immediately thereafter.

After around an hour, all was quiet. And Tiernan had decided enough was enough. Smoke had begun to billow out from the walls of the castle, causing a couple men to cough and darkening the sky, ashes from the fire would lay down and blacken their skin.

Tiernan rode by horse up to the gates and turned to look at his most trusted knight. "I'm going to go inside to see what the situation is."

"I'll come with you," Conor spoke determinedly. The two had become quiet close since Tiernan had taken over duties of Baelfort, and Conor had previously swore his life to protecting the Lord, or Lady, of Baelfort.

Tiernan nodded in response and the two ventured past the gates.

Inside was an absolute blood bath. Dead bodies littered the grounds, the buildings within the castle walls were burning brightly and some had already been burned to the ground.

Tiernan whipped his head around in confusion. They had been given orders to allow free any Ironborn who gave in, but for as far as he could see, not one had survived. The Ironborn were merciless but they were also selfish, they would not have given their lives for a coward such as Theon Greyjoy.

Ramsay was at the centre of the disaster, strolling casually around the bodies as if he were taking a stroll through a field of daisies. Tiernan eyed him carefully.

"My lord..." Conor murmured in shock, Tiernan turned to him and followed the man's gaze, whipping his head around to see.

His mouth and eyes widened at the sight of two small bodies, the size of children and charred beyond recognition, hanging from the walls.

"You don't think..." Tiernan began, too shocked to speak. He considered Theon a coward, he never thought he'd dare to burn two little boys to death. Especially with such a small force of men to protect him when the entirety of the North would have his head for this.

Almost as if on purpose, the Stark banner hung from the wall beside the bodies, and was ablaze.

"Terrible isn't it?" Ramsay said in his measly voice. "How anyone could kill innocent children, well, it's beyond my comprehension!"

Tiernan dismounted his horse, and in a moment of lost composure, marched forward and gripped Ramsay by his collar, dragging him forward until they were chest to chest. Tiernan's face was red as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"What the _fuck_ is going on here?" He demanded. Ramsay smirked innocently.

"The bodies were hung there for a week, we asked the remaining inhabitants of Winterfell."

"I find that hard to believe, seeing as _their_ bodies are laying around the grounds amongst the Iron born," Tiernan spat, narrowing his eyes considerably.

"Are you suggesting something, _Lord_ Tiernan?" He emphasised the title on purpose, knowing that Tiernan really had no right to be labelled it.

"I'm suggesting that you're a fucking rat, and I don't trust you as far as I could throw you."

"Well, better work on that throwing arm then."

Tiernan balled his fist and was ready to hit the bastard, but instead breathed deeply through his nostrils and dropped his hands from Ramsay. Deciding it wasn't worth it.

"Come on, our mission here has failed. We're done," Tiernan spoke to Conor, however he kept his eyes pinned to Ramsay.

He turned abruptly and mounted his horse, throwing one last hate-filled glare in Ramsay's direction.

When they were outside of the walls again, he called out to his force, "come on, men! We're done here!"

They all began to leave then, galloping back into the woods and making their way home to Baelfort.

"Why didn't you stay, my lord?" Conor asked inquisitively.

"Tell me, Conor," Tiernan began, "did you happen to see smoke rising from Winterfell when we first arrived?"

Conor thought for a moment before looking back to Tiernan with a shake of his head, "no. I don't believe I did."

"Well, neither did I."

* * *

 _Arya_

"Do you even _know_ where you're going?" Gendry's voice sounded in Fianna's ear, pushing her one step closer to snapping and hitting him.

"For the fiftieth _fucking_ time," she whipped around, a finger in the air, " _I_ was taught how to hunt in the woods next to Baelfort. _You_ are a city boy with no knowledge of the woods. Shut up and let me work my way through!"

Gendry held his hands up in defence and Arya rolled her eyes, trailing after them with her arms across her chest. She had been silent for the last while. Her mind reeling still from her conversation with Jaqen after they escaped.

Absentmindedly, she rolled the coin over inside her palm.

"But _how_ do you know?" Hot Pie asked curiously.

"Because moss on trees grows on the North side of the tree! We follow that, and stay off the nearby road and follow its path, we'll be led to Robb! Gods, I'm stuck with fools for companions," Fianna snapped, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and a stomp in her step.

Hot Pie and Gendry widened their eyes and looked at each other. Gendry gestured with a nod of his head to Fianna and they both widened their eyes again, silently gossiping through eye contact.

"What if we don't find him? What if he's moved elsewhere?" Arya spoke finally, causing Fianna to falter in her step for a moment before moving on again.

"We're gonna find him, Arya. Don't worry."

"But what about Tywin?"

"It Tywin was headed for Robb, he would have passed by now. I don't know where he's going, but he's not going to Robb." Fianna's tone was assertive, but she was being noticeably kinder towards Arya. The two had formed such a bond over the last few days, it was remarkable. It was almost as if Fianna was the sister Arya longed for in Sansa.

But Arya _was_ worried. She knew that she had been given the worst luck when it came to her family the last few months, the chance of a reunion with her brother and mother was dangled in front of her and the Gods were cruel enough to her lately to take it away at any time.

"Do you hear that?" Fianna asked suddenly, stopping in her step. The unmistakable sound of hooves were sounding the distance. The four looked between themselves with wide eyes.

Immediately they turned and skidded down the hill in the woods, when they reached the bottom they each found a large tree of their own to hide behind.

Hot Pie had his knees brought to his chest, his back against the tree as he rocked to soothe himself. He was already blubbering. "I knew it was a bad idea, they're gonna catch us again."

Arya had her front pressed against the tree, peeking around it to see if there were any soldiers entering the woods. "Be quiet!" She hushed.

Gendry was on his knees, peering out the opposite way. He felt defenceless, but a lot more confident than Hot Pie. "So much for not attacking Robb eh?"

"Fuck up," Fianna's voice cut back. She had been standing with her back to the tree, her sword drawn and held in the air, an inch from her chest and ready to swing at any moment.

When the sound of the force was too close, Gendry and Arya hid behind the tree again, knowing better than to look out.

Fianna shut her eyes and murmured a prayer, begging for them not to let her get captured after she had only just been freed.

After what felt like hours, and probably was, Fianna had moved to sit on her bottom. Her sword was still drawn just in case. The men weren't riding quickly and were still passing by.

Very carefully, she shifted her blade to the side, eager to catch a glimpse of the hoard in its reflection.

The reflected image was blurry and hard to make out, but something about them was clearly distinctive. They had not been headed in the direction of Robb. They had been headed towards Harrenhal.

Fianna lowered her blade and looked out, peeking around the corner.

"You're gonna get us caught!" Arya whispered, her expression contorted with the stress of the situation.

Fianna's eyes were wide with wonder as she saw that the reflection was to be true. They were headed towards Harrenhal. Immediately her mind tried to figure out who it was, was it the Brotherhood? Or was it... him?

Her thoughts were silenced by the sight of a banner. One she recognised very well from the studies she had to undertake as Lady of Baelfort.

The sigil of that banner was House Cerwyn. Meaning only one thing.

Fianna shoved her sword inside its scabbard and ran out, Arya and Gendry calling out after her in confusion. Arya thought for a moment Fianna was either a fool, or a traitor.

As her eyes followed Fianna, noting that the girl had finally reached the road and was whipping her head from side to side as she looked down the expanse of the party, her eyes were focusing in on every banner.

It was then Arya saw what Fianna had. And she rushed out too, shoving away Gendry's hand when he tried to stop her.

* * *

 _Robb_

He was gearing for a fight. The men were ready for a _fight._ When they marched on Harrenhal, Robb wanted to get Fianna back. But his men had wanted to attack and leave a few Lannisters dead.

Robb wasn't far from Harrenhal when the need to fight was quickly overcome with the realisation that Harrenhal, the great ruin it was, was empty. Well, empty of _life_.

The rotten smell of decaying bodies had filled his nostrils when he was a yard away from the entrance, and it only grew stronger with each step. Robb had to cover his mouth and nostrils with the back of his hand.

The gates to the entrance were open, inviting them in. And when they entered, he saw why.

Bodies littered Harrenhal. Northern bodies, if their armour was anything to go by. Sickeningly enough, he actually recognised a few of them.

His stomach heaved with nausea as he walked around, taking in the sight. The bodies had been long dead, the decay and rot long ago started. He suspected that Tywin had abandoned Harrenhal and left behind the bodies of the Northern prisoners they were holding.

Tears sprang at his eyes and guilt surged through him. Sure, these men had been sacrificed for his cause and he had won the Riverlands as a result. But that changed nothing.

"Two hundred Northmen," Lord Karstark spoke solemnly, "slaughtered like sheep."

He and Roose were watching as Robb began to anxiously search each of the bodies, checking for Fianna no doubt.

"The debt will be repaid, my friend," Roose assured. Lord Karstark grit his teeth in response. "For them, and for your sons at the Whispering Wood."

Robb stood at the centre of the courtyard after he was sure Fianna wasn't there. If she wasn't here at Harrenhal - Tywin had taken her with him. He had lost her once again.

He felt the judging eyes of his men on all sides and when he couldn't bear it any more, he stepped outside of Harrenhal's walls.

His head was dizzy and his eyes unfocused, he was holding back a scream of frustration.

But the sight of a horse galloping towards him with two figures on top did make him falter.

* * *

 _Fianna_

They had just caught the tail end of the party. She had rushed up to a man who was mid-riding.

"This is Robb Stark's army?" She asked desperately, to which he looked down at her with narrowed eyes.

"What's it to you, girl?" he asked with distrust, assessing her as a threat.

"Fianna!" Arya called out as she ran to catch up with the older girl, Fianna looked over her shoulder to find her before turning back around and grabbing the man by his arm. "Sorry!" She shouted before using all of her strength to tug him off his horse, using the element of surprise to her advantage.

" _Hey_!" The surrounding Northmen shouted but she paid no heed. Slipping her foot into the stirrups she hauled herself onto the horse and when she was seated in the saddle, she held her hand out for Arya. Arya took it eagerly and climbed onto the horse, sitting behind Fianna and wrapping her arms around the taller girl's waist.

The men drew their swords at that point, expecting her to be a thief. But Fianna instead just rode onwards. She forced her horse into a gallop as they hurtled around Robb's army, passing everyone out.

The journey felt like it took forever, and she was still being chased by the friends of the man she stole the horse from. But she didn't dare slow down.

When Harrenhal's stony walls came into view, she was reminded of the fact she never thought she would ever be here again. Albeit, willingly.

And although her vision could not focus entirely on his face, she knew exactly where Robb was when he came into view.

She watched with a fixed gaze as he distressedly ran his hands through his hair, longing to be by his side and hold him again.

He seemed to notice them too, she could feel his eyes on them when he noticed the speed with which her horse was running towards him.

A billow of dark hair was all he could make out, and that was all it took for him to move forward to meet the horse halfway.

Fianna's chest physically tightened when she saw that he recognised her, and tears poked at her eyes when she heard Arya's faint whisper behind her, "Robb."

When they were close enough, she tugged on the horses reigns and stopped the horse in his tracks. Arya wasted no time and all but flew off of the horse, sprinting like a cheetah towards Robb.

Robb's mouth dropped when he saw who the smaller figure was, as hard as she was to recognise now with her hair and dirtied skin. He crouched down slightly and when she threw her body at his, the force almost made him fall. He wrapped his arms tightly around his little sister and fisted her clothes between his fingers.

"Arya," he breathed, "I thought you were a hostage!" He tugged her back and inspected her. "Gods, what have you done to your hair?" He asked with a laugh, causing her to lash out and hit him with his arm.

"Shut up! Just because they've put a crown on your head, doesn't make you any prettier," she teased causing him to break into a wolffish grin and hug her again.

While his chin rested on her petite shoulder, he saw _her_ then. She was standing back, half afraid of his reaction to her and half wanting to let them have their reunion that Arya had so desperately deserved.

His arms fell from Arya so she pulled back, following his gaze to see Fianna in the distance.

"Don't just stand here, go to her," she rolled her eyes. Typical Arya, he thought. Always brutally honest and unforgiving.

He smiled softly at Arya before standing up straight.

The two lovers stood still, staring for a moment. Their eyes raked the other's bodies as they searched for any hint of abuse, as they had done so many times before.

It was him who started to walk towards her, and his walk broke her out of her revere as she started to walk to him too. Then they broke into a run. And then, they were in each other's arms, once again.

His nails dug almost painfully into her body with how hard he held her, and she hid her head so tight into his neck she was sure she would ever be able to breathe again if she ever had to move.

She was sobbing then, unable to hold it back. Robb had seen her cry more than anyone else in her life. He pulled back and cupped her cheeks delicately, his eyes meeting hers.

"I love you," he spoke, his voice firm. "Do you hear me?"

"And I love you." She replied, her voice hoarse with emotion. He leaned in and connected their lips and revelled in the newfound sense of happiness he was sure he'd be deprived off for the rest of his days.

* * *

 **BOOM. Just to clear it up, I've kinda changed it from the original timeline so the Northmen who were captured by Tywin died months ago, Tywin hasn't reached King's Landing yet and the Mountain left Harrenhal right away, Catelyn also hasn't released Jaime yet. I wasn't making mistakes in case you were wondering!**

 **I also couldn't help but let Arya reunite with Robb. It's kinda what I'm trying to convey with this story that Fianna's existence causes a butterfly effect on the storyline where even her smallest actions change the story down the line. It's deep as hell.**

 **PS. I don't wanna say who I imagine as the actress who plays Fianna, because I know that ruins a lot of people's image of the main character when they're told that, so I'll let you decide who you think would be best for Fianna. But for Tiernan I will say that Irish actor Jack Reynor is exactly how I envision him and I can't imagine anyone else playing him!**

 **But anyways, thanks so much for the reviews! It means the world!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I love Arya and Fianna too as I've said a million times ahah, you'll just have to wait and see what role Tiernan plays but he still has a role to play!**

 **Ellie - THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH WOW! It's such a compliment to have my OC compared to such amazing female characters. Funny you should mention Black Widow I was actually debating doing an Avengers story but I'm not sure! Your reaction is wonderful to read and I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed your review 3**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou- I'm so happy that you do! I have it all planned out so it will include some major events but it will be slightly AU in parts.**

 **reaganrose1315 - you should be very scared ;) I'm so evil haha sorry!**

 **Shannan- Love a good bit of Arya/Fianna banter and Robb wanting to wife up Fianna am I right? I hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a lovely day xx**

 **anelle25 - thank you! I hope you enjoyed this one!**


	17. (XVI) Disgust and Distrust

_Song: War of Hearts by Ruelle (the most Fianna/Robb song ever)_

 _Catelyn_

 _"Catelyn, its Edmure,"_ her brother's voice sounded through the wood of the door, knocking his knuckles against it in three short raps.

Catelyn had been in a daze at her dresser, absentmindedly staring at her reflection in the mirror. Guilt coursed through her veins like fire through woodland and she realised that, sadly, it was an emotion she was feeling a lot of lately.

Releasing Jaime had only added to it.

She stood up slowly and swallowed hard. Edmure rarely ever came to visit her actual chambers, so she could hazard a guess as to why he would now.

She smoothed down her dress and glided over to the door, opening it and keeping her expression void of emotion.

"There's been... developments," he began in a rushed tone, crossing past her and into her room. He was holding a scroll in his hand.

"I'm already aware," she said, her hands crossed in front of her.

"You are?" He asked in confusion, backtracking.

"I'm aware that Jaime Lannister has escaped, yes."

Edmure's face twisted then, and Catelyn realised with a jolt that he hadn't known.

"He's escaped?!" He bellowed in an angry tone, heading towards the door of her room and flinging it open violently. "Guards! Go check on the Kingslayer's cell immediately!"

He whirled back around to face her, his nostrils flaring, "how did you know that Cat?"

She looked down at his use of their father's nickname for her, her eyes widened slightly as she contemplated her next words.

"I let him go."

"You what?" Edmure asked calmly, holding in his anger in the hope that he had misheard her.

"Sansa and Arya are held captive in Winterfell, Edmure," she replied in an eerily cool voice, "I am not going to sit around here by the fire any longer. Robb marched to war to get his father and sisters back, not to bargain Jaime Lannister for his own selfish desires."

"Selfish desires?" He echoed. "The boy had a crown put on his head, he is fighting for his people and for his family and you dare to say that he is being selfish?"

Catelyn stayed silent. Not from Edmure's words, but rather a firm desire to no longer want to talk about it. She was distracted by Edmure revealing a scroll in his hand.

" _This,_ " he shoved it towards her, "was the news I had meant."

He left the room after she took it from him, slamming the door as he left. Catelyn's eyebrows were scrunched as she traced her fingers over the direwolf stamp that had originally sealed it.

The letter was addressed for her and Edmure, but Edmure had already opened it without her presence. Catelyn let out a sigh, unfolded it gently and began to read. She was mentally preparing herself for the worst, as always.

 _ **Mother and Uncle,**_

 _ **I write to you with a full heart this day. It appears that the understanding we had that Arya is captive in King's Landing is false. Arya was able to escape after my father's execution, and has been on the run ever since.**_

 _ **She was working as a servant in Harrenhal when Lady Fianna was taken a prisoner there, after you coerced her to leave my camp. Lady Fianna and Arya had managed to escape Harrenhal together, and we happened upon the two just today.**_

 _ **Arya is safe and well, she is under our care again and has returned to us. I must urge you to remain at Riverrun until we arrive. The world has become a dangerous place to travel in.**_

 _ **With regards to the betrothal, I intend to tell Lady Fianna of it on the morrow. Pending her reaction, I will be asking her for her hand in marriage and will take her as my wife, the Lady of Winterfell and the Queen in the North.**_

 _ **Regards,**_

 _ **Robb Stark, King in the North**_

* * *

 _Fianna_

"You're staring," she deadpanned, peeking open one eye to check and confirm her suspicions. He chuckled softly in return.

"I'm just expecting you to disappear again," he half-joked, but there was a sad undertone to his voice that made her open her eyes and tilt her head to the side to see him again.

"Never again," she denied with a soft voice, lifting her hand up and cupping his cheek. She rubbed his cheekbone with the pad of her thumb.

They were in Robb's new chambers in Harrenhal. Despite laying together, they had not actually _lay_ together as man and woman. Robb respected Fianna too much to take her Maidenhead without marrying her, which he intended to ask already but was putting it off out of nervousness.

"There's something I need to tell you..." he began, causing Fianna's brows to furrow with concern and for her to lift her head to see him.

"What?" She asked suspiciously.

"I received a raven while you were held prisoner, from Theon." Fianna sat up at this, ready to comfort him if needs be. She hated Theon and would rant for days about him if necessary, but Robb was still sensitive over the betrayal and she was attuned to that.

"What did it say?"

"He-.. he found an agreement. In my father's solar," Robb continued, swallowing audibly and licking his lips that suddenly felt dry. "An agreement between your father and mine."

Fianna stayed silent as she waited for him to continue, her eyes darting back and forth between his.

"It says that.. that we were betrothed to be married. We _are_ betrothed."

Fianna was still silent, her gaze falling to her lap as she took a minute to process this. She had so many questions but her confusion and shock overtook her curiosity.

"That's why he went to Winterfell when he was dying," she stated. "Did you know of this?" She asked, feeling insecure all of a sudden. Surely Robb would tell her if he had known?

"No, I knew nothing. I don't know why my father didn't tell me," he said, shaking his head lightly.

"Does _she_ know?" She asked bitterly, obviously referring to his mother.

"I don't know, but I'd imagine so."

Fianna's jaw clenched at this, the hatred and anger she harboured for the older woman was starting to consume her again.

She climbed off of the bed, her fury rising as she began to pace the ground. Her breathing became heavier as she scraped her fingers roughly through her hair.

"Fianna.." he called. She whipped around to face him.

"I was called a whore for _months._ I was ridiculed, laughed at, slapped across the face and forced to leave for my feelings for you. And now after all that, it was for nothing? You were mine this entire time?!" She ranted, in her rage she hit her fist against the wooden table, ignoring the sharp shooting pain that ran up her arm as a result.

"But Fianna," Robb murmured lowly, he stood up and walked over to her, taking her hands into his in an attempt to soothe her. "You know what this means?"

Fianna shook her head. Too angry to even make eye contact with him.

"It means that the betrothal to the Frey girl is void. It means that you are my true betrothed. I am yours, if you'd have me."

Fianna's head snapped up at this, her eyes wide with shock and frankly, fear. She had spent the majority of a year wishing she was his betrothed. Now that he was telling her she was, she was too scared to believe it. There was no way her luck had changed so dramatically.

"Robb.." she whispered, but he shushed her.

"Don't decide anything now. Take some time. But Fianna, I intend to honour the betrothal. If you do." She nodded her head at his words, her lips parting as she attempted to form a response.

She wanted so badly to say yes, but she also wasn't stupid. There was a lot to consider. Like the fact that Fianna had never wanted to marry, or the fact that Robb was King in the North. Would that make her Queen? Could she handle it? Would she have to renounce her claim as Lady of Baelfort and move to Winterfell?

Those were conversations for another day, she decided.

So they lay back down again, enjoying each other's company as Robb filled Fianna in on all the happenings that occurred since she left. Chroi lay at the bottom of Robb's bed. He was overly clingy with Fianna since she had returned and they were sure the dog wasn't leaving any time soon.

"I got my men killed, Robb," Fianna muttered quietly after a while, her calm expression suddenly troubled and distressed as she held back unshed tears.

"No you didn't, Clegane did," Robb stated in a stern tone, wrapping his arms tightly around her and cuddling her to his chest.

Chroi perked up, sensing her distress and shuffled forward, squeezing himself in between their joined bodies and separating them slightly. The dog lay on his stomach and began to frantically lick at Fianna's face, trying to console her from whatever troubled her. Fianna moved her head back and patted his head to stop him.

"I did. They left the camp for me and then I just... watched them die. They died because I was stupid enough to get caught by Clegane," she said solemnly, her eyes were wide with the horrors she had witnessed.

Robb didn't know what to say, there was nothing he could have said to console her. So he settled for rubbing her arm with his hand and resting his forehead against hers, assuring her he was there for her.

The creases in her face that showed her distress smoothed out eventually as she relaxed into the comforting embrace of her, well, Robb and her dog.

That moment was shattered when the door opened without a warning knock. They swung up quickly in the bed to sit up, startling Chroi, but sighed in relief seeing it was only Arya.

"What are you doing?" She asked with narrowed eyes, slowly backing out of the room until Chroi popped his head up, showing himself to Arya. "Okay, _what_ are you doing?!"

"We're just laying here," Fianna replied with a hoarse voice, the reunion had taken a lot out of her and she felt like she hadn't slept in ages.

"What is it?" Robb asked with furrowed brows.

"I just wanted to ask, are we going to see mother soon?" She asked, masking the fact that she was obviously quite desperate to reunite with her.

"We will be departing for Riverrun soon," he replied causing Fianna to bite her cheek to refrain from making a comment. She had no intentions of seeing Catelyn Stark ever again, god knows what she would do if she did.

Arya crossed the room slowly, almost awkwardly. It was clear the girl felt like she was intruding.

"What do you know about Sansa?" She asked nonchalantly.

"She's in Kings Landing. I've heard that Joffrey has set her aside for Margaery Tyrell," Robb told her, eyeing her carefully.

"She won't like that," Arya said in a quiet tone, looking down.

Fianna, unable to resist, reached out and grabbed Arya by the arm and roughly dragged her onto the bed.

"What are you doing?!" She shouted angrily, as Fianna held her down and began to viciously tickle her up and down her sides.

"I think the princess is getting too mopey for her own good, my King!" Fianna called to Robb, causing him to bellow a laugh and reach out, joining Fianna and tickling Arya by her neck.

Arya squealed helplessly and thrashed around, trying to free herself. "I don't want to be in your bed! The gods know what you've both done in it!"

Fianna and Robb were cackling with laughter then, and although she tried to hold it back, Arya was laughing too.

"I'll tell Robb what you showed Hot Pie and Gendry!" Arya shouted suddenly, making Fianna stop and narrow her eyes at her.

"Showed them what?" Robb asked, stopping tickling as well to look at his betrothed.

"Her ti-" Arya was cut off by Fianna lifting a pillow from the bed and smacking the younger girl repeatedly with it. Arya honestly hadn't smiled this much in years as she fought off Fianna's onslaught.

"You did _WHAT_?!" Robb bellowed, faking dramatics. He lunged forward and gripped Fianna by the ankle, dragging her towards him. Chroi was yapping happily and jumping around the overcrowded bed.

When she was close enough, he began to tickle her like he did to Arya, causing her to cry out. Arya, in revenge, grabbed a pillow and began to beat Fianna as she did with her.

They stopped after Fianna's persistent begging then, sprawled out over the bed, each with their faces split in wide grins and Chroi with his tongue hanging happily from his mouth. It was hard to believe that among them was a King, a princess and a potential queen.

They were practically children, after all.

* * *

 _Robb_

They were at a council meeting with his men hours later and already he wished Fianna hadn't attended. She was back in her shell again, with all but him. She had once proved herself and they had respected her. But that was before.

"So we just let this traitor sit with us and give you council, my lord?" Lord Cerwyn asked haughtily, eying Fianna with disgust.

"How am I a traitor?" She fired back, her fingers digging into the wood of the seat she sat on. Robb found he couldn't take his eyes off of her since she arrived.

"Did you or did you not take your army to return home to your warm bed and your scented baths?"

"No, I was forced by Catelyn Stark to return home, I advised my men to stay and they chose their liege lord instead. I will not be held responsible for who men will choose to protect," Fianna bit back, the topic of her obliterated army was a touchy one.

"Forced by Catelyn Stark because you were whoring with the King!"

Robb couldn't stop himself from interjecting this time.

"That's enough!" His shout filled the room. "Lady Fianna has suffered for us time and time again, she had dedicated herself to the North and I will not allow you to humiliate her over petty mistakes."

"Mistakes, your grace? Your first mistake was getting close to her. Your second was letting her return to Baelfort. The third was not hanging her for an oathbreaker the second she walked back through those gates!" Lord Karstark interjected, rising from his seat as well.

"Need I remind you who your _King_ is?" Fianna stood up and shouted out, silencing them momentarily.

"And you are not our Queen. Need I remind you?" He replied after a moments pause in a deathly quiet tone.

"What? Do you want a pretty dress and crown and be called Queen yourself?" She shouted back sarcastically.

"No but she could be," Greatjon spoke up for the first time that evening, shockingly to Lord Karstark. "That there is our King's betrothed, she'll be our Queen some day. She holds a whole of a lot of power over you, Karstark." Greatjon spoke down to him, his tone full of disgust.

"I'd sooner he wed his own sister than the Baelfort bitch."

" _Lord Karstark_!" Robb shouted, his voice loud and booming. Fianna put her hand on his elbow to calm him, but it did little to soothe him. Instead, she turned back and looked at the Lords with an eerily calm expression.

"I don't know if I will wed Robb. I don't know if I'll be Queen. What I do know is this, whether I have an army or not I am still Fianna Bua. The blood of Cillian, Aifric, and Oisin runs through my veins as well _centuries_ worth of victories behind my family name. I have given King Robb council that has greatly contributed to his own victories. I singlehandedly broke the siege of Baelfort, and I'm not nineteen. I may not have an army, but I am still the Lady of Baelfort. You may not trust me, but to be honest I don't fucking _care_." She stepped away from the table to trail around the room, making her way to the door and making sure to make eye contact with them all. "I have been forced to watch my men die, I have been abused, beaten, threatened and almost married off to our enemy like a sheep being sold at a market. And here I am, at your side and not at home by the fire. If any of you fuckers have anything more to say, draw your sword and I will meet you in the courtyard."

With that, she left the room. Characteristically of Fianna, she wouldn't have left a room without leaving an impact to be felt for after.

Robb's chest felt heavy, and he dismissed his lords, eager to follow after Fianna in the hopes of comforting her. Even if he didn't exactly know how.

 _Tiernan_

"So what will you do? Are you going to tell Lady Fianna?" Conor asked from beside him. They were a few hours ride from Baelfort, now.

"I don't know. I don't trust a bloody bird with what I have to say, the last thing we want is the Bolton's at our door," Tiernan mused, tsking as he thought deeply.

"You'll need to write to King Robb either way, he needs to know about the Princes bodies in Winterfell. Best coming from you instead of Ramsay."

Tiernan shook his head at the thought, the image of the charred boys bodies filling his mind again and turning his stomach.

"I'm still not so sure that was them."

"Why would you think that?" Conor asked curiously.

"Theon Greyjoy doesn't strike me as the type to do that. Cruel or not, he grew up with the Starks."

"But he invaded Winterfell and betrayed the King."

"Obviously under the command of his father, any one can string two unrecognisable kids up on the walls of Winterfell and claim it's the princes of the North."

Conor stayed silent with that, not knowing enough about the situation to make a comment.

"I've got it," he said suddenly,"I'll write two letters. One for King Robb, and one for Fianna, which I'll write in Baeleagoir."

Baeleagoir, of course, was a language centuries old and learned only by the Bua family and maesters, as a means of communicating covertly. Tiernan thanked the gods that Cillian Bua had insisted he lived with them so he was taught accordingly.

"Do you speak Baeleagoir, my lord?"

"Just about."

* * *

 _ **Fianna,**_

 _ **Beidh curamach. Na muinin as an fear flayed.**_

* * *

 **I can't wait until Fianna's back in battles already.**

 **So just a small chapter, not many major events happening but some cutie moments from Robb, Fianna and Arya. You may think it's a bit out of character for them, but remember the last time we seen Arya with family before season 7 she was a child and wasn't the borderline psychopath she is now. Much like Fianna and Robb's relationship brings out the child in them, they bring out the child in Arya.**

 **The "Baeleagoir" language is actually Irish Gaelic. The translation of Tiernan's letter is**

 **"Be careful. Don't trust the flayed man."**

 **Thanks everyone who reviewed, it encourages me so much. x**

 **Otakugirl1996 - it certainly will and I'm glad you liked it! x**

 **reaganrose115 - you'll have to wait and see ;)**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - thank you! I thought it'd be pretty boring if I just added an OC and gave her Talisa's lines and just let her follow after everything Robb does, so instead of just inserting an OC into the main events I wanted to actually change the main events because of my OC. I'm glad you liked it and I hope you continue to!**

 **Shannan - I love your theories! I also love your reaction to Arya being with Robb and Fianna. I agree completely! Even in this chapter, show Arya would never be laying on a bed getting tickled by her older brother, but being with Robb is giving her some of her innocence and childhood back. Fianna won't allow her to become completely serious. Fianna has yet to lose her shit believe me, her reaction in this chapter was mild because of the shock! Thank you so much for your review I hope you liked this one x**

 **Ellie - Aww I'm glad to hear that! If I did I'd probably do a Thor/OC or a Bucky/OC but I'm not sure yet, that'll probably be after this book or when I get more time! I'm soooo glad you like Tiernan! I wasn't expecting anyone to, because I know people come to read this for some Robb Stark action but honestly I just have far too many ideas for the story to just have the story based around Robb and Fianna's relationship and personally I like Tiernan and I have big plans for him! So much more to come and I hope you enjoy it! xx**


	18. (XVII) Accepting Fate

_Song: Sun by Sleeping At Last (another big cheesy Fianna/Robb song for ya)_

 _Fianna_

She approached him, Ser Mick that is, as he was sitting on a wooden bench sharpening his blade carefully. He looked up from the shining sword when she sat next to him, a small smile on her lips in greeting.

"Hello," was all she said, wringing her hands together, almost as if she was nervous.

"Lady Fianna," he greeted softly, his gaze falling for a moment as he contemplated his next words. "I'm truly sorry about what happened to your m-"

"It's quite alright, Ser," she cut him off, eager to avoid talking about it. "I've been.. coming to terms with it. The guilt can be overbearing."

He nodded his head in respect of her wishes to change the subject. "You've lost your family longsword, I hear?"

"Yes, Wolfsbane was taken from me when I was captured. I wasn't able to retrieve it when I escaped," she murmured sadly. "Then again, I'm sure my ancestors will forgive me for it."

At that moment, an over-enthusiastic Arya Stark approached them from a run, slightly breathless from the speed with which she took to get to her.

"Come on, you said you'd spar with me!" Arya demanded causing Fianna to roll her eyes playfully and smile apologetically at Mick. She stood up and brushed off her breeches. Her sword, the one she had taken at Harrenhal during her escape, was fastened at her hip. She didn't part with it now, it was a reminder of her minor victory.

"Come on then, princess," Fianna spoke sarcastically.

She preferred to spar in breeches than in heavy armour, finding it easier to move around. Fianna had promised Arya that she would teach her the ways of sword fighting as she herself was taught for many years.

They went into the courtyard, Arya with her 'needle' in hand. It was a thin, short sword and Fianna wondered how the girl expected to get anywhere with that. But for her size and shape, it was probably best suited for her.

Fianna drew her sword from the scabbard and tossed the emptied sheath to the side, out of her way.

She positioned herself correctly, one foot back with her hands tightly gripping her sword. Fianna kept her eyes pinned on Arya and instructed her to follow her posture.

"Don't lean forward too much," Fianna told her, "don't be so stiff either."

Arya was getting frustrated. She had thought she had learned a great deal from Syrio Forel, but Fianna was nitpicking at every little thing she was doing and that made her think she wasn't so skilled after all.

"Give me what you've got," the older girl demanded, as Arya stepped forward and thrust needle at her. Fianna stepped back and hit her sword against Arya's, blocking it twice before rearing the sword around until it was against the side of Arya's head. Flat side of course, she didn't actually want to hurt her. "Dead."

Arya's mouth fell open, she was so easily defeated it shocked her. She had heard Fianna almost held her own against Jaime Lannister, and she could see why. The girl was very well trained and had a natural ability.

"You're putting too much power behind your swing, you're gonna get tired quickly," Fianna instructed, telling her to try again. Arya focused more this time, and lasted slightly longer, albeit still not that long. This time, Fianna had swung the flat side of her sword around the back of Arya's knees and knocked her flat on her back.

The wind was knocked out of Arya when her back hit the ground, still determined as ever, she got back up. Ready to try again.

Unbeknownst to the two, Robb had been watching from overhead. He leaned his arm against the stone wall and watched as his betrothed and his little sister fought it out, a small smile on his lips. Any regular woman would have been bonding with his sisters over dinner and needlework, and here was Fianna Bua, teaching Arya how to fight.

He let out a low chuckle watching how determined Arya was, it didn't surprise him a bit. She was the same with archery, spending hours and hours shooting a bow until it had hit the bullseye every shot. She had begged father and her brothers for years to teach her sword fighting but they had refused, now Fianna was doing it for them.

After around an hour, the two girls were covered in sweat and panting heavily. Arya had a smile on her face despite her exhaustion, and Fianna couldn't help but smile in return, clearly impressed with the smaller girl's determination.

"Can we do this again tomorrow?" She asked enthusiastically, to which Fianna nodded her head with a smile.

Arya ran off then, just as Robb was about to turn down the staircase to head towards Fianna.

She was busy putting away her sword when he came up behind her, startling her entirely so she let out a gasp as he wrapped his arms around her middle and lifted her into the air, swinging her around in a full circle.

She was laughing with glee, patting her hands against his forearms for him to stop and when he did, she twisted in his arms to see his face. "Hello, your grace."

"Oh it's 'your grace' now isn't it? Do I have to call you 'my lady'?" He teased, resting his arms around her middle.

"Yes actually, and while you're at it you can run me a bath I've gotten rather sweaty," using her 'formal' voice again to mimic the higher born, as she usually did.

Robb's face was lit up as he watched her, grinning from ear to ear. His heart felt light in his chest.

"Have you given any more thought to it?" He blurted out, regretting it immediately when her smile dimmed and her lips parted. She looked down at her feet, her good mood dying instantly.

"I have, and I have a lot of questions-"

"Your grace, my lady," a man cut her off, much to Robb's frustration. "There's been a raven for each of you."

"It must be my cousin," she said wistfully, taking her scroll, handing Robb the other. "Thank you."

When he left, they both very carefully unravelled each of the messages they had received.

Fianna's eyebrows scrunched as soon as she saw that the words were written in Baeleagoir, a language she hadn't seen or written in so long it looked almost foreign to her. She read over the words quickly, and they confused her greatly. After a moment, she balled up the scroll inside her hand and walked over to a nearby fire that was being used for cooking. She threw the ball into the fire and didn't leave its side until she was sure it was completely disintegrated.

Her mind was in disarray, and she found herself looking anxiously around for Lord Bolton. It was then she noticed Robb's expression, one she had only seen once before.

His face crumpled in grief and his shoulders hunched. She rushed over to him immediately and took him by the elbow, trying to lead him inside.

"Come on, my love. Let's go inside," she urged, and blindly he started to walk next to her, not really looking where he was going and relying on Fianna to guide him.

When she finally reached Robb's chambers, he went into his bedroom and sat on the edge of his bed. His face was now blank, grief and shock fighting an inner battle within him.

"Are you alright? What's going on?" She asked gently, sitting next to him and putting an arm around him comfortingly. He only shook his head softly in response and handed the scroll to her.

Her eyes quickly read over the words and when she finished, tears were beginning to well up in her tear ducts. She placed the scroll to the side and buried her head into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, and finally he responded by turning to the side and wrapping his arms around her.

"They can't be... they couldn't be dead.." he whispered in shock, his tone full with the tears he refused to shed. She squeezed him back tightly and nodded her head, agreeing with his notions if only to comfort him.

They sat in silence like this for a while, and Fianna was feeling a touch of nostalgia for that moment in the woods when she had comforted him after his father's death. This was somehow worse, the pain of losing a family member was accompanied by the horror of two small children being slain.

Fianna unwrapped her arms from around him and kept one arm around his back, he rested his cheek against the top of her head and sighed lowly. She used her free hand to pick up the scroll and read it, then several times more.

A thought struck her then.

"Perhaps it _isn't_ true, my love," she said suddenly.

"Please, Fianna. Don't lie to comfort me," he spoke gruffly.

"No, Robb," she turned to him, gesturing to the scroll. "When I visited Winterfell, their direwolves never left their side. Rickon's nearly tore my head off for speaking to him. Do you really think Theon would have been able to get through them?"

"Direwolves aren't invincible. They can be killed," he replied.

"If he did kill them, he would have hung the wolves bodies next to Bran and Rickon's. He would be _proud_ of it. Theon is a sucker for glory, the glory of killing a direwolf isn't something he'd pass up. Especially two of them."

Robb's eyes narrowed as he realised what she was insinuating. "So, you don't think that it was Bran and Rickon?"

"All I'm saying is, it sounds rather strange. The fact he'd burn their bodies at all is even strange, wouldn't he want everyone to be able to recognise them? Most of the North knows what those boys look like."

Robb's eyes lit up then, he grabbed her cheeks and planted a kiss on Fianna's mouth, shocking her entirely.

"You're a bloody genius Fianna Bua and I fucking love you," he spoke before standing up and exiting the room swiftly, leaving her dazed.

* * *

 _Arya_

"Hey," Fianna called out after entering Arya's chambers the next morning, she looked down at the bed sheets on the ground and her chest clenched.

Arya was so accustomed to sleeping on the ground, she couldn't stand to sleep in a bed. It felt too comfortable, which was somehow uncomfortable.

Arya was in the middle of packing the very little belongings she had, Robb had taken to buying her a chest full of clothes. Pretty dresses and the likes. When he realised she refused to wear them, Fianna had suggested he buy her breeches and shirts instead - which she wore far more easily.

"I haven't seen Gendry and Hot Pie since we arrived here," Fianna mused, moving to sit on the unused bed and watching Arya as she packed.

"Hot Pie works with the kitchen crew now. And Gendry..." Arya broke off, a crease forming between her brows which Fianna was puzzled by. "He left. Said he didn't want to be part of Robb's rebellion, that he had no place here."

"I would have thought he'd have stayed.." Fianna murmured, looking away. She felt pity for her betrothed's sister. She knew they had formed a bone and close friendship.

"He asked if I'd come with him, I said no."

"Because of Robb?" Arya nodded her head.

"Yes. And mother."

Fianna smiled softly, reaching out and squeezing Arya's shoulder gently as a sign of encouragement.

"I just came to say that we're leaving at midday," Fianna told her, standing up, her armour clanking as she did. She hadn't worn armour since she had been captured by the Mountain, and it felt as uncomfortable to her now as it did when she first rode off to meet Robb at Winterfell.

Fianna left then, as she moved to close the door behind her she noticed that Arya had paused in her movements and was staring absently down at her chest of belongings. Fianna closed the door and left her to her thoughts, and when she did Arya snapped out of it.

She felt weaker now that she was back with Robb. For so long she was in charge of her own safety, and now she felt as if everyone was in charge of looking after her except herself. Robb was being protective, she understood that. But she had been fighting to survive for so long now that she hadn't realised her fighting was how she blocked out the painful memories.

The pain of losing her father was stronger now than it had been for months, now she didn't have a distraction to dull it. The idea that her mother was so close, yet so far taunted her every minute of the day. And as much as she hated to admit it, she even worried for Sansa. The fool that she was, Sansa was her sister and she was being held in a snake pit.

Arya gulped as she desperately tried to push her emotions to the side, shoving her clothes into the chest rougher than before and scraping her knuckles against the sides of the trunk.

* * *

"What are you doing? We're about to leave," Arya asked worriedly as Hot Pie approached her. The horses were being readied and Arya was standing next to hers, waiting for the party to begin their movement.

Hot Pie looked down apologetically and it was then she noticed the bread in his hands.

"I'm not coming," he told her sadly.

"You're what?!" She shouted back.

"I baked some brown bread for the head cook here, she only came to Harrenhal to serve food - she works at an inn nearby. She said she'd never had better, and offered me a job."

Arya couldn't form a response, annoyance bubbling inside of her. First Gendry, and now Hot Pie. She was losing her only friends.

"Anyways, my brothers not a king. I'm not a Stark of Winterhell-"

"Winterfell," she spoke over him. Her anger was starting to show.

"You sure?" He asked stupidly.

"I'm sure," she replied, an amused smile actually letting show as her anger dissipated.

"Anyway," he handed over the baked good that was in his hand, "I made this for you."

Arya looked down curiously at the warm bread in her hand, it was shaped weirdly and had marks all over it, "what is it?"

"It's a wolf," he told her with an obvious tone, and she smiled again, nodding her head in agreement. It didn't look anything like a wolf, but she appreciated the gesture none the less.

"Be safe."

"Goodbye, Arry."

"Goodbye, Hot Pie."

With that, she turned around with the hbread in hand and made her way towards her horse. If she was the girl she used to be, she'd have hugged her friend. But she wasn't that little girl any more.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"I'm not comfortable with Roose Bolton in control of Harrenhal," Fianna spoke after a silent ride. She was riding at the front, next to Robb as she had done months before. It was almost nostalgic.

"You're not comfortable around him in general," Robb let out a low laugh, "aren't you glad he's out of your sight?"

"I'd be even more glad if you didn't trust him so easily," she told him, causing him to look over at her with widened eyes.

"Why is it you mistrust him so?"

Fianna paused, thinking back to the letter she had received. She hadn't told Robb, or anyone for that matter, about its contents and intended to keep it that way.

"Just a feeling."

Robb faced his head forward again, he was confused by her behaviour but knew better than to question the strange mind and workings of Fianna Bua.

"So," he started, nervousness creeping in, "you were going to tell me something yesterday, before we were interrupted."

Fianna gulped at this.

"Yes, I have a few questions," she paused with uncertainty, "about our... _betrothal._ "

"Ask away, I'll answer them all."

"If we marry, do I have to renounce my claim to Baelfort?" Robb wished she hadn't started with that. In truth, he knew he couldn't give her a positive answer.

"In truth, I have thought a lot about it myself. I thought we could rule over Winterfell and Baelfort together, but we would have to live in Winterfell, not Baelfort. So I don't think that would work well, the Lady of the House not living in her house."

Fianna looked down at this, sighing sadly. She was expecting that answer.

"So who would sit in my seat? Tiernan?"

"That would be your decision, as you don't have an heir. That I know of," he teased at the end with a smirk, but Fianna could only force a smile in return. "He has proved himself to be a worthy Lord."

"It just feels wrong. To give up my claim for love, and I do love you, don't get me wrong."

Robb nodded silently in response, sensing the inner turmoil within her and hoping that it wouldn't stop her from choosing him. As selfish as that was.

"Tiernan doesn't even have the Bua name.."

"He could, he could pledge to me his wishes to change his last name to his mother's and I would grant it. For you."

"But that's never happened before," she looked over at him with narrowed eyes.

"What good is a crown if I don't have some power, eh?" He smiled warmly at her, he could tell he was winning her over.

"What if.. what if Tiernan could continue to rule Baelfort in my stead. And then we could have an heir, two heirs! One for Baelfort and one for Winterfell!"

"Could you do that to Tiernan? Let him act as Lord until our child is old enough to rule a place they have not lived in?"

Fianna looked down again, her bright, excited smile dimming, "no. I suppose I couldn't. But if I marry you, does that make me Queen?"

"That will make you Queen, yes," Robb said, the sound of it excited him. Robb and Fianna, King and Queen of the North.

"What if I'd make a bad queen?" She asked insecurely. Robb responded by pulling on his reigns and dismounting his horse. She looked down at him, baffled as he walked to her, gesturing for her to get down from her horse too.

The entire party came to a halt when their King dismounted, eagerly watching the next events.

"Fianna," he began, cupping her cheeks gently, "you are my Queen. Whether you say yes or not, I worship you. You would be a wonderful Queen, and an even better wife." Her eyes began to tear up with flattery at his words.

"You have been by my side through the cruelest of times, and I love you. I love you. I love you." He babbled, pressing multiple kisses to her lips after each 'I love you'. "So let me love you, marry me, Fianna Bua. For you have made me feel like a King before I was even given a crown."

She was silent for a moment with her watery eyes and parted lips. Her gaze danced around his face and eventually settled on the eyes she had grown to love staring into. And with that, the widest smile he had ever seen on her face opened up and she was nodding her head.

"Yes."

* * *

 **SO... engagement party drinks at Riverrun anyone?**

 **I'm happy with how this story is going so far, I hope you lot are too! I actually can't wait to just finish it all because I wanna get my plans out there.**

 **Also just a question, would any of you be interested in reading like an extras book full of one shots? Maybe some Robb/Fianna extra scenes, an Aifric Bua one shot, Arya and Fianna, maybe even the odd modern au one shot? Let me know if you would be!**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed it really drives me!**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I kinda feel like Catelyn had to have let Jaime go for his storyline to develop, I have no interest in writing him as part of the story or keeping him as a prisoner so it made sense to me. I hope you liked this chapter x**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou- I hope it lived up to your expectations! x**

 **reaganrose1315 - I know right? Is it the calm before the storm? Who knows!**

 **JazyBear - gosh I love this! I'm so flattered you like my OC that much to say that! I love your continued support and I'm so glad you like it thus far, I hope you continue to x**

 **Shannan - Robb is finally being a bit of a bratty teenager eh? Someone get him some eyeliner and a Linkin Park CD. Thank you for your review and I hope you liked this chapter x**


	19. (XVIII) Take This Man

_Song: Hotel Sayre by Craig Armstrong and Lana Del Rey_

 _Fianna_

The instant they rode across the river inside the large walls of Riverrun, Arya took her horse into a gallop and sped past Robb and Fianna - the most eager of them all to be there.

Many of the men accompanying them had believed the trip to Riverrun to be pointless, but Fianna realised that was absolutely untrue when she saw the look on Arya's face. It was the most childlike she had seen the girl, and for a second, she looked her age. Instead of a girl who was forced to grow up too soon.

When she saw her mother, standing there in the courtyard trying to refrain herself from running forward to meet her daughter, Arya Stark had cried. It had been so long since she had cried, years now. The last time she cried was at her father's execution, and here she was in tears again because she was finally reunited with the mother she never thought she'd see again.

Arya sped forward, and Catelyn let out a sob, opening her arms wide and crouching down for Arya to come to her. The news of Bran and Rickon took Catelyn hard, and accompanied with her father's ill health, she looked years older than when Fianna had last saw her.

Catelyn and Arya hugged so tightly, Fianna was sure that one was going to crush the other. They stayed like that for a while, tears streaming down their faces and Fianna felt emotional all of a sudden. An emotional reconnection like that, between mother and daughter, was never one she'd experience. Save for the children she herself would have.

After a while, Robb had been patiently waiting for their reunion to finish. When it did, and the two rose to a stand, Catelyn wrapped her arm around Arya and held her there until she faced her eldest son.

Their reunion was cold, Robb was angry with her. Extremely angry. But she was still his mother and he owed her that respect. So he nodded to her and she nodded in return. Arya glanced back and forth between the two, desperate to know what was going on.

"Mother," Robb greeted in a cool tone.

"Robb," she replied, her throat tight.

With that, Edmure Tully approached Robb, eager to discuss battle strategies and the matter of Lord Hoster's condition.

Catelyn looked to Fianna then, and if she thought her son was cold, Fianna was winter herself. Fianna stared straight into Catelyn's eyes with such a fierceness, she felt as though she would spontaneously combust into flames at any moment.

Breaking their moment, Fianna clicked her tongue for her dog to follow and stared at Catelyn the entire time she walked until she entered the castle, directed by a servant who was to lead her to her chambers.

Catelyn gulped uneasily, she had a lot of explaining and apologising to do. But for now, her primary concern was tending to Arya.

* * *

 _Robb_

"Robb, before you begin," Catelyn started when Robb finally visited her chambers.

She had been requesting to see him for hours, but he had absolutely refused every time. Seeing as she was confined to her chambers at Edmure's request and had guards at her door to ensure so, she had no choice but to stay put.

"Why?" Was all he asked. His expression was set into a mixture of disgust and hatred and she never thought he'd look at her in such a way.

"Why what?" She asked, and he realised she had made so many mistakes as of late she didn't even know which one he was referring to.

"We'll talk about Fianna later, but I want to know why you released the Kingslayer first," he ranted in frustration. It infuriated him how calmly she was speaking to him.

"For the girls."

"You betrayed me," he told her, and his words hurt. He intended them to hurt.

"Robb-"

"No!" He cut her off. "You knew I would not allow it, and you did it anyway. You knew that Fianna was my betrothed and you allowed me to make a promise to the _Gods_ that I wouldn't be able to keep!"

"Bran and Rickon were captives in Winterfell, Sansa and Arya were captives in Kings Landing-"

"Arya was not," he cut her off again.

"How was I to know that? I have five children, I thought only one was free. Now two are, one is held captive and the other two are presumed dead," she spoke, her emotions were heightening and she thought she would cry at any moment.

"My lords tell me that you're a traitor. That you've committed treason. Lord Karstark lost his sons to the Kingslayer, and you let him free. They want justice," Robb told her seriously. "You stole their vengeance."

"Killing Jaime Lannister would not buy life for his children," she argued back, her eyes starting to water. "Returning him to Kings Landing may buy life for my child."

"Jaime Lannister has played you for a fool," Robb's tone dropped, and it came across all the more threatening, "you've weakened our position. You've brought discord into our camp. You've made us lose the Frey support. You sent the Bua support to their death. You've made me appear as an oathbreaker. And you did it all behind my back."

The two held eye contact for a moment and the tension could have been cut with a knife.

"You're going to be guarded day and night."

"Robb-"

"And I'm going to marry Fianna Bua. I will make her part of this family and Lady of Winterfell and you had better brush up on your manners because you owe her one hell of an apology."

With that, he left swiftly, leaving his mother who was once the strongest woman in the north, now a broken mother without her babes.

* * *

 _Fianna_

 _"_ Ouch!" Fianna gasped as a pin poked her leg, the woman panicked and apologised again.

The seamstress was an older lady, and was very nervous around Fianna. Perhaps she was afraid of pissing off the future queen, or perhaps she was merely afraid of Fianna herself.

"It's alright, don't worry," Fianna assured with a kind smile.

She was forced by Robb to attend the seamstress, who took her measurements and fit a white cloth around her, to later modify into a wedding dress.

It all felt so real all of a sudden, being in the dress Fianna didn't feel comfortable. She loved Robb and didn't regret accepting the betrothal, but it was all moving so fast for her, her head was spinning.

"My lady," a guard entered her room again. The same one who had entered several times more that day.

"Don't say what I think you're going to say," Fianna sighed in exasperation, running her hand over her face.

"She's asked to see you again."

Fianna groaned internally and gestured for the seamstress to let go of her. She was absolutely fed up of Catelyn Stark and if the woman was so intent on meeting with her, she wasn't going to hold back any more.

She had held back at the gates for Arya's sake, but now Arya wouldn't be present.

With her white clothes still on, Fianna padded angrily and barefoot down the narrow hallways of Riverrun. The guard who had been leading her to Catelyn's chambers, had to jog just to stay ahead of her.

When she reached Catelyn, and the door was shut behind her, she finally allowed herself to look upon the woman she had grown to despise so much.

"Lady Fianna, finally," Catelyn began, standing up from her desk and smoothing down her dress. She clasped her hands and started to walk towards Fianna, a nervous smile on her lips. Catelyn eyed Fianna's attire and Fianna noticed it.

"I see it's true then, you are to be wed to my son-"

Uncontrollably and overcome with anger, Fianna lifted her hand and smacked her palm against Catelyn's cheek. Her head whipped to the side with the force of the slap and the skin was already starting to redden and become blotchy.

"Don't you _dare._ Don't think that because you are the mother of my betrothed that I have forgotten what you have done to me."

Catelyn looked down to her feet, one hand covering her slapped cheek to soothe it.

"I did it for the sake of my children, when you have your own you will then understand."

"My own children? I wouldn't have had any if you had your way. My men are dead, because of you," Fianna pointed at her, her face reddening in fury.

"Take my advice," Catelyn stepped forward and tried to reach for Fianna's hand, but the younger girl quickly snapped it away. "Your marriage will be an insult to Walder Frey. For Robb's sake, don't do this. He's a dangerous man to cross."

"We wouldn't have crossed him at all if you hadn't let Robb make that oath," Fianna retorted.

"Maybe so, but what's done is done. You can only try to save yourself and Robb, now."

With that, Fianna rolled her eyes and left Catelyn's room. She was fully intent on never listening to her again. She had once before, and almost lost everything because of it.

* * *

"It's not right," Fianna fussed, shifting the dress around her body. It was large, puffy and high-necked and very.. well, _not_ Fianna Bua.

"My lady, the ceremony is in an _hour,_ " the seamstress huffed, running a hand through her hair that had dampened with sweat.

Riverrun was practically in shambles as the preparation for the wedding was ongoing. Workers were bustling about with food, decorations and here Fianna was, fussing over how she looked for what was probably the first time in her life.

"Oh for the gods sake, you look _fine,_ " Arya rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest. Fianna could see her reflection in the mirror she was standing at. Arya had actually been forced into a dress too, a rather simple one of Northern style. Her first dress in years now. She looked as uncomfortable as Fianna felt.

What's worse was that she wasn't permitted to see Robb. He wasn't here to qualm her worries.

"I can't do much with the dress in such a short time, my lady," the seamstress told her upon noticing the look of discontent on her face.

Fianna smiled softly at her, trying to be polite while she was internally having a crisis.

"Who's giving you to Robb?" Arya asked curiously.

"Ser Mick," Fianna genuinely smiled at this. "I wish it were my father, or Tiernan, but he's been a father figure to me all my life none the less."

"So, the dress?" The seamstress stressed, lines of worry etched into her forehead.

As Fianna continued to stare in the mirror, she noticed something in the background that caught her eye. A wide grin appeared on her face as she whirled around and gestured to the woman to take the dress off.

"I've got a better idea."

* * *

 _Robb_

He was nervous, a different kind of nervous. Like he was about to head into battle but there was an undertone of excitement to it.

He was stood next to his grandfather, Hoster. Hoster had forced himself out of bed and it was clear to see that he was struggling to remain upright, sickness overcoming him. It was tradition for weddings under the Old Gods to be carried out by the head of the grooms household - which would have been Eddard had circumstances not prevailed.

The ceremony was to take place at night in the Godswood, Robb had his furs around him and he worried briefly if his wife-to-be would freeze in a dress in this weather.

Robb's breath hitched when he noticed everyone started to turn to the side, meaning Fianna was coming down to meet him at the heart tree. He looked down at his feet, inhaling deeply before he would look upon his bride.

When he did, he didn't know whether to laugh or to fall in love with her all over again.

Only Fianna Bua would ditch her wedding dress and don her armour for her own wedding.

It was a jarring sight, where her cheeks were normally smeared with dirt and her hair unkempt as when she usually wore her armour, her body was scrubbed clean and her hair was neatly pulled back. She had two braids running from the top of her head and meeting in the back, with small white flowers decorating it inserted into the braid.

She was absolutely beautiful, the most beautiful in all of the seven kingdoms he was sure. And she was made all the more beautiful by the fact she chose to wear her armour instead, just as he wore his. They were equals in every way except title and gender.

She was being led by Ser Mick and when they had made eye contact, Robb was never more sure of any decision in his life. He chose Fianna Bua, not his father.

Fianna didn't dare lift her eyes to gauge the reactions of the attendees, some looked on in pride - eager to welcome a queen, others looked on with worry for the consequences this union would bring.

Catelyn was stood amongst the crowd, next to Arya. The differences in the two expressions were stark. While Arya actually showed a glimmer of excitement for her brother's marriage, Catelyn's face was grim and full of foreboding.

When they had been betrothed, it was as simple as a Lord marrying a Lady. Now, Robb was a King. Many looked upon Fianna as an inadequate match and suggested Robb marry someone who could provide him with armies and land.

When Mick and Fianna reached Robb, they finally looked away from the other to look upon Lord Hoster.

"Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" He asked, clearly uncomfortable with presenting a wedding to the Old Gods, whilst he worshipped the Seven.

"Fianna, of the house Bua, heir to Baelfort, she is here to be wed," Ser Mick spoke with a firm tone. "A woman grown, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg for the blessings of the Gods. Who claims her?"

Robb stepped forward at this, "Robb of house Stark, heir to Winterfell and King in the North. Who gives her?"

"Mick, of house Dovnall, standing in place of her Lord father."

"Lady Fianna, will you take this man?" Hoster asks, and a multitude of emotions hit her. Fianna looks down as she tries to process the sudden onslaught of thoughts. She would be losing her land, her claim and her legitimacy as heir to Baelfort. But when she looked up and caught eyes with Robb, she knew she'd trade all that in a heartbeat for a chance at true happiness.

So with that thought, she took one step forward and smiled brightly, uncontrollably.

"I take this man."

Robb returns her smile at this and offers his hand to her, she slips her own into his and together, they step towards the heart tree. Hands joined and kneeling down for the Gods to witness their union.

As they were on their knees, Robb took this time to share a brief word with his new wife.

"Did you lose your dress?" He whispered in an amused tone.

"Figured I'd give everyone something to talk about," she muttered back, looking over to him with the side of her eye.

They rose then and turned to face each other. Their eyes glistening with happiness. Robb reaches up and gently takes Fianna's cloak, bearing the Bua sigil of a paw print, and removes it from her shoulders. He passes it to Ser Mick.

This was it, she realised. The physical representing moment she stops becoming a Bua and starts becoming a Stark.

Robb then takes his own cloak off of his shoulders and drapes it over hers, resisting the urge to tug her in and kiss her right there.

As quick as that, it was done and the two joined hands again and turned to face the crowd. The wedding ceremony was over, so the silence broke immediately.

Each carrying their own torch to light up the Godswood, they started to chant then. Even though Fianna hadn't been officiated as Queen yet, she sure felt like one at that moment.

" _THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH! THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!"_

* * *

"I can't believe I've gone and made Fianna Bua a Stark," Robb teased after they finished eating.

He was unable to take his eyes off of her the entire night. She changed out of her armour for the feast and was wearing a new dress he hadn't seen before, a ravishingly gorgeous dress that was shoulderless. Black was its main colour with gold accents. The bodice on her dress was tight and the more he looked at her, the less nervous for the bedding and the more excited he became.

"I married you out of pity, don't be fooled," Fianna retorted, looking at him slyly with the slightest smirk.

"After all I've done for you and this is how you repay me, by insults. Nobody else would have taken you," Robb huffed playfully, dipping his finger into the leftover food on his plate and smearing it on the tip of her nose.

She gasped loudly at his actions and flew her hand out, whacking him in the arm.

"It's treason to hit your king!" He gaped at her, nursing his arm.

"And it's death to insult your queen," she replied, leaning in with a smile and cupping his cheek she pressed a kiss to his lips. They were entirely in their own world at the top table, not caring about the eyes that often flickered over to gaze upon the new married couple.

"And who made you a queen?" He asked, using his thumb to rub the food off of her, which she cutely wrinkled her nose at.

"If I recall correctly, I made you a king. So I made myself queen," he hummed in response and rolled his eyes, resting his hand on her thigh.

The music started up then, and they were urged upon by the Lords to dance amongst the others.

Fianna had persistently denied, claiming to be a horrific dancer. But she was forced into it when Robb had all but gathered her in his arms and half carried her to the open space set aside for dancing.

The song was not entirely too slow for them, thankfully, and Fianna placed her hand on Robb's shoulder as his went to her waist and their free hands connected.

Their eyes remained staring into the others for the entirety of the dance, and before the end of the song, the rest of the party had joined in to dance along with them.

Fianna surprisingly found herself grinning as they finished, stepping back and curtseying to Robb as he bowed in return.

"Right! I think it's time gents!" Lord Manderly called out suddenly, causing an eruption of cheers to begin. The lords and ladies present circled Robb and Fianna, and she realised with a jolt what he had been implying.

Hands reached out to grab her and she wished to the gods she had her sword on her person to fend them off.

They grabbed her by the waist and lifted her into the air, her loud protests washing over Robb who was in the midst of being surrounded by ladies for his part in the bedding ceremony.

He looked over to see his new wife in distress, his amused smile dimming as anger began flooding through him when he seen their hands on her. He didn't care then for traditions, and called out to them all.

"Enough!" His booming voice put a stop to the Lords fun and games, everyone looking over to him in surprise. "Put my wife down, we will not be having a bedding ceremony."

An immediate chorus of discontent rung out, and Fianna chose that moment to elbow the man in the stomach who was holding her back by her arms, then lift her foot out to boot another close Lord in his privates.

They stepped back from Fianna as a sign of respect and slight fear, fear of Robb _and_ of Fianna.

He approached her, letting down the girl's that were surrounding him and slipped his hand into hers, smiling encouragingly at her.

"I'd have killed them all," she muttered to him, squeezing his hand as they began to venture out of the great hall towards Robb's chambers.

"I know you would have, and if you didn't, I would," he agreed with a hum, a soft smile on his lips that remained until they went inside his, _their,_ chambers.

Fianna walked forward into the centre of the room as Robb secured the lock on the door. Fianna turned then, slowly and looking shy all of a sudden.

"Hey," Robb called, approaching her and immediately placing his hands on her soft cheeks. "If you don't want to yet, we don't have to."

"You think I'm going to back out now after months of withholding myself?" She scoffed, causing him to chuckle. "It's not that, it's... I've never had a female figure in my life to teach me. What if I don't know how to... please you?"

She looked down to her feet, something he found adorable, and tucked her hair behind one ear. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her nose and then finally, her lips.

"Kissing you is enough for me, I can't even imagine what it would be like to fuck you." She gasped and smacked his arm at his choice of words, rolling her eyes but smiling again anyway. His words had calmed her.

Instead of talking again, she began to tug the flowers from her hair which were beginning to wilt, tossing them carelessly to the ground.

She turned around and pulled her long hair around her shoulder to her front, gesturing for him to unlace her dress. He did so with nimble fingers, leaning in so his breath hit the back of her neck and set shivers down her spine.

When the dress was loose, he tugged it down slowly and leaned in to press a kiss to her neck from behind. Her eyelids fluttered at this, and when her small clothes were exposed and the dress removed, she lolled her head back to rest on his shoulder.

Fianna whipped around suddenly and pressed her lips to his. Their kiss this time was different, not inhibited by the two trying to refrain themselves. This time, they were free to roam each other's bodies as they please for the consequences were not fatal.

And so they did, although it had hurt her at the beginning, the connection she felt to Robb at that moment outside of the obvious physical was soul shaking.

Fianna had lost a lot of things that day, her name, her title, her land and her virginity. But she had gained twice as much if not more. A husband, new land and a crown.

* * *

 **I hope you enjoyed that! Fianna and Robb are finally married and shit is about to fly!**

 **Consider this a late Christmas present, I hope everyone had a great Christmas and that you have an even better New Year!**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - thank you! And I hope you continue to enjoy it! x**

 **reaganrose115 - THEY DONE DIDDLY DID IT. ITS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE**

 **Shannan - I hope you enjoyed this one!**

 **Jazybear- i was thinking for one shots to do some for Fianna and Robb, maybe a few for Tiernan (for later on in the book when you see who he's paired with ;) ), and then maybe one for Aifric Bua so lemme know if you or anyone else would read that!**


	20. (XIX) A Crown For A Queen

_Song: Duck Shoot by Rupert Gregson-Williams_

 _Fianna_

The doors creaked as they opened to the great hall, revealing Fianna to all those who were stood waiting.

It was rather ironic, that Robb was named King in the North at Riverrun and here he was naming his Queen in the North, at Riverrun.

There was no coronation ceremony for him, the Lords and two Ladies declaration was enough.

He was waiting at the top, the crown he rarely wore atop his head. He had told her he didn't like to wear it often, didn't like the weight of it on his head or the weight of its burden.

They all turned to her as she began to walk towards Robb, slowly, and dressed in a gorgeous gown of white with real red roses decorating it at the hip. A dress that many would argue she should have worn on her wedding day, which was all but yesterday. But the white and red was a symbol, the Bua sigil was a red paw print on a white background.

Her cheeks reddened when her and Robb made eye contact, the events of the morning spilling back to her.

They were blissfully enjoying their first morning as husband and wife, continuing on from the night before. That was until a poor handmaid had entered the chambers, expecting them to be dressed and done with frolicking already. She had ended up leaving immediately with a flushed neck and a squeal to the sound of Robb's bellowing laughter in the background and Fianna slapping his bare chest.

Although her wedding was amazing and the wedding night better than a maiden could ever even hope, her dreams were plagued with scenarios. Dreams of the North rejecting her as their queen, but most graphically was the night terror she experienced where she came across the bodies of everyone she had loved at her feet. And although no words were spoke, in the dream she was overcome with a guilt like no other. Like it was her fault.

At the top of the mound of bodies lay Robb, his crystal blue eyes open and staring blankly because he wasn't _Robb_ any more. Even more frighteningly, there was a small babe in his arms, who too had been slain viciously.

But those were night terrors she told herself, and if ever a time came when she and Robb had a child, she would fight until her last breath to save them.

It was only when she reached the top of the room that she noticed the object he was holding in his hands, her eyes widened realising it was a crown. It was to be _her_ crown.

She couldn't inspect it properly while standing there, but a rush of excitement filled her. Surprisingly, Fianna was reluctant about becoming Queen. She had seen firsthand the stress Robb had undertaken in protecting all of the North, and she had known stress herself of commanding her own army. Now she was to command an entire kingdom.

Fianna bowed to her King as a sign of respect, getting down on both knees on the ground and lifting her skirts so that she wouldn't fall. This was her showing that she was loyal to her King, her husband and the North.

"I now proclaim Fianna, of the House Bua," Robb called out, the murmur amongst the crowd silencing instantaneously, "by right of marriage and by the blood of the first men, that runs through her and I, Queen of the North."

Fianna closed her eyes, her breathing quickening with anxiety as Robb lifted the crown and settled it on top of her head gently, sealing his proclamation.

With that, Fianna rose slowly and turned to face the crowd. Her hand balled into a fist at her side as she gauged their reactions, which were mixed. Arya had looked almost bored as she watched, caring little for the game of thrones. Catelyn just looked sad. Some looked angry, still seeing her as an unfit wife and others, surprisingly, actually looked impressed.

Robb's hand wrapped around her fist, forcing her to let go of the ball she had tightened her fingers into and slide her hand through his, their fingers intertwined.

"Long may she reign," he called out finally, causing everyone to stand and draw their swords, raising them in the air and pointed to the couple.

"Long may she reign!" They replied back automatically, before Greatjon Umber had started yet _another_ of his chants.

" _THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH! THE YOUNG WOLF! THE SHE WOLF!"_

The atmosphere was electric, even those who were doubtful of their new Queen were chanting in solidarity. Fianna felt as if somehow a change was coming, she hoped it was for the better.

* * *

The crown, Fianna came to inspect, was intricately decorated. It was a circlet of metal, hammered and incised with the runes of the first men. Much like Robb except without the longswords.

It bore no diamond or jewels, which Fianna found she rather liked. Much like with Robb's crown, the Northerners were not concerned with such delicacies.

Fianna was altogether too afraid to take it off, staring into the mirror so long it would appear to others as if she was vain. The last few days had been a whirlwind of change and her head was spinning trying to catch up with it.

Arya burst into Fianna's room without asking, but Fianna didn't mind so much. From their escape of Harrenhal and the time they've spent together, bonding and practising with swords, Fianna came to see Arya as a sister - even without marrying Robb.

The nature of Arya's visit this time, however, was not to insist she fetch her sword and train with her again, the usually excited and breathless look Arya carried was replaced with a grim expression that made Fianna pause and question her.

"What is it, Arya?" Fianna asked worriedly, stepping towards her.

"Lord Hoster is dead," she informed her and Fianna's expression twisted with sympathy. She placed a tentative hand on Arya's shoulder.

"Arya, I'm so sorry," she told her sincerely but Arya merely shook her head.

"We weren't close," was all she replied before turning away, Fianna's hand dropping as Arya went to inspect the crown Fianna had left sitting on the dresser when Arya had entered.

"Still, he's your grandfather."

"But not my father," Fianna almost pitied her then. She knew what Arya was implying, the death of her father had affected so much, her grandfather's was nothing in comparison.

Arya traced her finger around the runes and Fianna approached her, watching the girl carefully.

"It'll get easier, you know?" Fianna told her, it was half true. The pain of losing her father still held with her, and hers didn't die in a way that was even half as brutal as Lord Eddard. Nor did she have to watch. But it was true in the sense that it wasn't as hard as it used to be.

"You should go see Robb," Arya told her instead, setting down the crown carefully. Fianna picked it up after and settled it on top of her head again. Arya craned her neck back to look up, she may have been younger than Fianna but the older girl towered over her.

"You should come with me," Fianna insisted. To which Arya shook her head once again.

"My mother needs me," Arya told her and Fianna could only look down.

Poor Catelyn, she found herself thinking.

The woman who had been so cruel to her, who had struck her, had thrown her mother's death in her face, belittled her and forced her to leave camp. Yet she was still a woman, and a fierce one at that. Fianna felt almost compelled to talk to her.

But first, Robb.

Fianna went to find him then, and when she did he had been discussing something with Edmure - more than likely Hoster's death, she supposed.

Fianna stood respectfully to the side to allow the men to finish their conversation before she interjected.

When they did, Robb spotted Fianna immediately and crossed his way over to her.

"Robb.." she began, "I'm so-"

"Not here," he interrupted, taking her hand in his and leading her back towards the chambers they now shared as man and wife.

He closed the door after them and turned around to see Fianna waiting patiently in the centre of the room.

"The funeral is tomorrow," he said in a dead tone, looking as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

She stepped forward to meet him, lifting her hands to rest on his neck and placing their foreheads against each other's.

"Are you alright?" She asked softly.

"Better than most would be, I suppose," he replied, from this Fianna was able to draw a similar reaction from Arya. They were a lot like, she reckoned - Arya and Robb. The two had been so damaged from their father's death that Hoster's had been merely a sad occurrence.

Fianna could never remember her Bua grandparents, her grandfather had died before she was born and her grandmother followed when Fianna was all but three. She had a grandfather from her mother's side, a knight from the Stormlands who went by the name of Ser Bonifer Hasty. She had never met him, however she was told by her mother that he had left Westeros with a broken heart, married a girl in Volantis and sailed back to the Stormlands. But tragedy struck, and the maiden had died in childbirth, leaving Bonifer with what would be his only daughter - Fianna's mother, Miriam.

"I am at your side, always," she assured Robb, clasping his hand in hers and smiling comfortingly.

"You've gotten so soft since you've fallen in love with me," he joked after a moment of shared eye contact, causing her to scoff.

"Maybe I just pity you," she retorted causing him to roll his eyes but hold her tighter none the less. She buried her face into his neck and let him hold her for as long as was necessary. For that's what they were to each other. Amongst other things, they were each other's support.

* * *

They were stood on the end of the dock, Hoster's body had been set inside of a small boat that was currently being pushed out into the river. A river Lord could only be peaceful in the afterlife if his body had been sent down river.

Fianna was stood next to Catelyn, with Arya on the other side of Catelyn. They watched silently as Robb and the Blackfish gently pushed Hoster's boat down to follow the flow of the stream.

She had been contemplating saying something for a while, whether the woman deserved her kind words or not she wasn't entirely sure of. But she ultimately decided that today she wasn't Queen Fianna Stark, and Catelyn wasn't Lady Catelyn Stark.

They were just Fianna and Cat, two women who's father had succumbed to an illness they couldn't stop, two fathers who had deserved a heroes death.

"For what it's worth," she spoke quietly so only Cat could hear her, although Catelyn didn't react to her speaking and she wondered if the woman heard her. "I am sorry. And I will pray for your father, and for you."

This elicited a response from her, but all she could do was turn her head to Fianna's side, her gaze cast on the ground and her head dropping in a slight nod. But it was more than what Fianna had expected of her.

Robb and Brynden slugged out of the river, their lower halves soaked. Robb moved to stand between his wife and mother. He wasn't aware that the two had spoken at all since their return to Riverrun.

Edmure stepped up then, bow and arrow in hand he walked to the edge of the dock. He dipped the tip of his arrow into the flames until it lit, and then aimed downriver - towards Hoster's boat.

This was the final part of the funeral ceremony.

Edmure released his arrow and to everyone's disappointment, he completely missed Hoster's boat as the arrow plunged into the water. Robb looked sadly over to his mother, who closed her eyes in annoyance.

His uncle nocked another arrow and let it loose, but to everyone's horror that one missed too.

Unable to hold it in, Robb lips upturned in amusement, and Fianna had to bite her cheeks to stop from following. She lifted her hand and discretely swatted his arm in warning and his smile fell just as Catelyn turned to look at him.

Edmure let out _another_ and once again it had missed, making a mockery of himself altogether. This time, they couldn't hold in it and simultaneously, Arya, Fianna and Robb burst into low laughter. Fianna covered her hand over her mouth as she desperately tried to conceal it, out of respect.

Arya wasn't hiding anything and openly laughed at the situation, which only stirred more amusement in Fianna and Robb.

Frustrated, Brynden angrily marched up to Edmure and tore the bow from his nephews grip. He stood and positioned his body before letting off a perfectly aimed arrow that hit the boat in the first try.

Immediately, the boat caught flame and Hoster's body was being succumbed to it. The trio's laughter and smiles died at this, reality hitting them back fast.

Without even checking to see if his arrow had hit, the Blackfish stalked off and left the funeral. Somehow everyone was more emotional than before, Hoster Tully was officially gone.

Fianna looked over to see Robb wrap his arm around his mother in comfort, and decided to allow them that moment. Fianna tapped Arya on her back and gestured her to follow as they left mother and son to try to rebuild themselves after yet another loss.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

"Does it make you royalty?" Conor asked stupidly, causing Tiernan to roll his eyes.

" _No,_ Conor," he sighed exasperatedly, "she's the queen, not the King. If she were the King, maybe."

"She may as well be the King, I heard she's got bigger balls than Robb Stark," he joked, and Tiernan only rolled his eyes again, not even dignifying that statement with a response.

They were hunting in the woods next to Baelfort, both on horseback with a small party behind them. Now and then, he would see a wolfhound shoot past them and he became jealous of the bond Fianna and Chroi had, wishing he could have taken one of these hounds as his own. But to find a pup was rare, without its mother even rarer. It would have to be a pup so it could be trained, wild adult dogs can't be trained at all.

"Does that mean King Robb owns Baelfort now?"

"I don't know," Tiernan huffed, "all she told me was that she would discuss the matter of Baelfort with me in person, that it was too much for a raven to carry."

In truth, Tiernan was frustrated by that. He felt like he was being kept in the dark, Fianna hadn't even acknowledged his letter to her and he wondered if she got it at all. He hoped for her sake she had. Surely it wasn't too excessive for her to just write if Baelfort now belonged to Robb or not?

Surely it wasn't too much to ask, but then again perhaps she had been reluctant to send it in case someone else would find the raven, thus possibly leading to another attack on Baelfort to weaken Robb.

Whatever the reason, he was growing restless with each day and his relationship with his cousin was becoming more and more strained.

Sounds of snarls hit their ears as Conor and Tiernan turned to look at each other in confusion. Tiernan nodded once to him, for them to investigate, and dismounted their horses after retrieving their bow and arrows.

With an arrow nocked just in case, he led first towards the sounds, cautiously. He was brought to a small clearing where the sight that greeted him was rather surprising.

It was obviously a direwolf, being so much bigger than a regular wolf. It was large and it's fur was jet black, making it appear so much more vicious.

It was engaged in a teeth clashing fight with a smaller, but equally as ferocious wolfhound. The two snapping at each other's neck.

He had heard the Starks had taken direwolves for pets, and that had been the only pack of them in the North. But clearly they were mistaken and direwolves were starting to inhabit the kingdom below the wall again.

He carefully lifted his bow up, gesturing to Conor to be quiet as he skilfully aimed at the gigantic wolf. It wouldn't be hard to miss this one. Fianna may have been better with swords, but he excelled with archery.

Shutting one eye and preparing to let loose, he was distracted by the shouts of a young boy crying out "NO! DON'T!"

He immediately lowered his arms and looked up in confusion as a boy, no older than seven ran into the clearing with his arms in the air, almost as if he was prepared to take the arrow himself.

"Who are you?" Tiernan called back, placing his now on his back and tucking away the arrow.

"I'm-"

"Shut up, boy," a thick Northern accent called, before its owner revealed herself too. She was holding an arrow too, but she had it angled directly at Tiernan instead of the animal.

Tiernan held his hands in the air defensively.

"I don't mean you any harm," he told them, his eyes flickering to the boy in confusion. Who were these people?

"Been told that a few times before," she replied. Her gaze held him pinned. The girls hair was a mess and she wore rags as clothes, it was clear the boy and woman had been sleeping rough lately by their appearance. Were they wildlings?

"My name is Tiernan, I'm the Lord of Baelfort," he informed her, hoping that would calm the situation.

"Doesn't mean anything to me," she shook her head, her voice tough.

"You're a liar!" The boy shouted in a sudden outburst, "Fianna is the Lord of Baelfort!"

 _He knew Fianna_?

"Yes, she's my cousin! I'm minding Baelfort for her while she fights in the war," he told them giddily, the arrow pointed at him was starting to make him nervous.

"You're Fianna's cousin?" Another boy's voice asked, and Tiernan looked over as a giant of a man appeared in the clearing, carrying a much smaller boy in his arms. It was then he noticed another two figures in the trees behind them, a girl who had another arrow aimed at him and a boy who stood idly by, watching the situation.

"Yes, my name is Tiernan, she's my cousin, I swear it."

"I met her once before," he said wistfully, as if remembering. The realisation only came to Tiernan then.

He felt like an idiot for not realising before. The direwolves? Sleeping rough? A crippled boy? These were the _Stark_ boys.

"I went to Winterfell to look for you, I was told to bring you to safety, King Robb's orders. I thought you were dead..."

"How do we know you're not bluffing, _milord_?" The first girl sarcastically drawled, still not lowering her arm.

"Robb is my cousin now by law, him and Fianna have married. I wouldn't betray family."

She had no choice but to lower the arrow at that, still eying him suspiciously.

"Come back to Baelfort with me, I'll keep you safe, on my life."

The strange boy in the background looked down, almost as if he were expecting to hear that, before sharing a glance with the girl next to him.

"I can't, I have somewhere I need to go," Bran replied sadly, smiling half heartedly.

"Does this mean Fianna is our sister now?" The youngest boy, who he presumed to be Rickon, excitedly asked.

"Your good sister, yes."

Bran looked over to Rickon sadly, and gestured for the larger, much larger, man who was carrying him to set him down by the tree.

"Rickon, come here," he called and Rickon turned and skipped over to him excitedly, obviously made happier by the news. Happier than he had been in months.

Bran started to tell him something then, and the boys happy expression fell immediately. Tiernan's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking back to Conor who looked equally as confused.

Bran looked to Tiernan as he finished telling Rickon whatever it was, which the younger boy was protesting. With the smallest move, he nodded his head to Tiernan. Making him wonder what he could possibly have been suggesting.

* * *

 **I just hinted at something in this chapter. I wonder who picked up on it? I love reading your theories on what's about to happen so please tell me everything you're thinking!**

 **I hope you enjoyed this one, have a happy new year x**

 **Otakugirl1996 - I'm finding it hard to hate Catelyn here actually! It will bring consequences but what those consequences are you'll have to see ;)**

 **RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond - I'm so glad you liked it! It was so intimidating writing that chapter I'm so happy to hear your reaction 3**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou - they're being too cute now I can't wait for them to get back killing people again ahaha**

 **reaganrose115- you should be for what I have planned ;)**

 **Ellie- Arya deserves the WORLD and I'm so glad I decided to start this story to give her a little bit of happiness, even if it isn't real. I understand why you didn't like what Fianna did/said to Catelyn, but I will say that Fianna had a long history of ignoring titles and acting inappropriately before that, which is partly why Catelyn resents her so much. She is in fact a very quick tempered and violent person and she's not perfect, being in love won't change that. Try to remember Catelyn herself struck her, and Fianna is a very "hit me I'll hit you back" kind of girl. Whether Cat deserved it I suppose is a matter of opinion. On another note, I'm so happy you think she deserves the title! I hope you liked this chapter! x**

 **Jazybear - soooo happy you liked it and thank you for your continued support it means the world to me and motivates me so much 3**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - but red is my favourite colour ;)**

 **Shannan - All I'll say is they're happy now but this is a GoT story of course and it can never last ;) Thank you so much for your review and support and I hope you have a wonderful new year x**


	21. (XX) Rickon's Refuge

_Fianna_

Edmure Tully, Fianna discovered, was beginning to become a real pain in the arse.

The distraction of the wedding and coronation had pushed the war to the back of Fianna and Robb's minds, but now that the events were over, they were brought back to battle strategies and planning.

They had usually sat with the other lords at a war council meeting, Robb always valued their input and suggestions. But for this meeting in particular, he had only called upon those he truly trusted - his wife, his uncle and his great uncle.

Fianna was sat at the table, some would say she looked rather bored but truly she was frustrated and tired. Discussing their position had only made her realise that they were weaker than ever, with Tywin and the Mountain still at large.

Fianna rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, shaking her head every so often yet not having outright spoken or voiced her opinion.

"If I may, nephew," Edmure started again, to which Fianna and Brynden made eye contact. With that look, they were in agreement that Edmure was doing himself no favours today. "I encountered a situation with one of my lieutenants at the Stone Mill which may have some bearing-"

"Oh why don't you shut your mouth about that damned mill?" The Blackfish cut him off, causing Fianna's lips to upturn in amusement, "and don't call him 'nephew', he is your king."

"Robb knows I mean him no disre-"

"So far today, Robb knows that you have weakened our front and that you can't shoot a bloody arrow if your father's life depended on it," Fianna stated in a dry tone, growing ever more annoyed.

"You're lucky I'm not your King," Brynden continued, "I wouldn't let you wave your blunder around like a victory flag."

"My blunder sent Tywin's mad dog scurrying back to Casterly Rock with his tail between his legs," Edmure defended.

"No, your _blunder_ denied me of my right to avenge the death of my men," Fianna angrily spoke, shoving her chair back and standing up so she could round the table to face Edmure. "Tell me, has there been any moment in this war that we have shied away from a battle when an enemy is not where they should be?"

Edmure didn't reply, his mouth gaping like a fish.

"Do we face them head on or try to spook them into running away, into _escaping_ with their _life_?"

"Well, no-"

"Well then how the fuck are you proud of letting Gregor Clegane away? Be proud when you bring Robb his head. Not this bollocks," she stated with a tone of finality, giving him one last glare before turning back to rest her hands on the table.

Byrndens lips twitched, he was rather impressed with his great nephews new bride.

Robb had been staring idly out the window, looking as if he had the weight of the North on his shoulders and in a sense, he had. Finally, he turned to march towards Edmure, to continue the rant his wife and great uncle were supplying.

"Your instructions were to wait for him to come to you."

"I seized an opportunity," Edmure retorted, causing the Blackfish and Fianna to roll their eyes again.

"What value was the mill?"

"The mountain was garrisoned across the river from it-"

"Oh!" Fianna cried out, tone full of sarcasm, "is he still there?"

"Of course not," Edmure literally buffed his chest out before speaking his next words, "we took the fight to him. He could not withstand us."

"I wanted to draw the Mountain into the west, into our country where we could surround him and kill him," Robb spoke, anger laced in his voice. "I wanted him to chase us, I wanted revenge for taking my wife and for slaying the Bua force, a force of _hundreds_ of men. He doesn't have a strategic thought in his head, he's a mad dog and I could have done it. That head could be on a spike now, instead you've brought me a mill."

"We took hostages!" Edmure continued, almost sounding desperate now, "Willem Lannister, Martyn Lannister!"

"Tywin has Sansa, my _sister._ There was a point where he had my wife and I believed he had both my sisters, did I sue for peace?"

"No..."

"Do you think Tywin Lannister will sue for peace because we have his father's brother's great-grandsons?"

"No..."

Fianna found it amusing how Edmure was much older than Robb, yet it was him being talked to like the child.

"How many men did we lose?" Fianna asked, her tone much calmer.

"Two hundred..." he admitted in shame.

"Two _bloody_ hundred?" Fianna bellowed, causing Edmure to jump. "Along with my men, do you have any idea how much of a hit that is to our front? Tywin already had more men than we did!"

"I-I'm sorry... I didn't know-" Edmure stammered, realising the consequences of his actions. He had wanted the glory, he wanted to impress his nephew.

"They were good men. The men who fought for me. They rode home with me because they were loyal, to _me._ They had wives, children, a home. They would have left it all for me without a complaint if I asked. I was forced to watch as each of them were slaughtered, butchered to save my life. All because Gregor Clegane was a coward who didn't want to chance fighting against us and having the better fighters come out on top. You pushed him to run and now he's probably sitting up at Casterly Rock in front of a fire, with a whore in his lap. The next time you decide to take initiative, you'd better make damn sure it pays off."

Not a word was spoken from the other three when Fianna finished her speech, they all watched silently as she walked over to the map of Westeros she had begun to loathe looking at. Fianna lifted one of the Stark pawns and fired it across the room until it skidded over the floor and hit the wall with an echoing thud.

The action had meaning behind it, they had lost enough men Robb supposed it was probably accurate to take a pawn away. Fianna stormed out of the room after that, unable to take Edmure Tully's ramblings much longer. Perhaps she was cursed to not get along with the Tully siblings, she'd have to meet Lysa to determine for sure.

When she was out of sight, Robb turned back to the window to stare gloomily out at his camp.

"Now that's a queen," Brydnen remarked with a chuckle, shaking his head before leaving the room as well.

* * *

Fianna didn't pride herself on being a patient women.

With that, one would think motherly instincts would be absolutely void. But it was quite the opposite she found. Children seemed to like her. She was kind to them, playful in her own nature with a child-likeness to her that allowed her to connect with children easily. Such as with Rickon Stark.

After the dreadful council meeting, she had taken a stroll through Riverrun with one destination in mind. With Chroi by her side, hoping this would impress rather than intimidate, she headed down to the dungeons to see two prisoners in particular.

Martyn and Willem Lannister were all but boys. Only a few years younger than her and Robb, now. Their faces bore the innocence most Lannisters had sorely lacked, completely untouched by the brutality of war.

They jumped a mile in the air when she entered the cell, a giant wolfhound at her side. Their eyes were wide with fear when they saw her, picking up on the crown on her head and the breed of the dog at her side.

The maester had been tending dutifully to one of the boy's wounds, and scolded him when he jumped - advising him to stay still.

"You're Robb Stark's wife," one of them said, breathless from either fear or admiration- she wasn't sure.

Fianna smiled softly and moved to sit next to the boy who's wounds weren't being tended to, his hands and arms already patched up.

"My name is Fianna, not 'Robb Stark's Wife'," she joked, but neither of them laughed.

"Is it true what they say about you both?" The other boy asked, almost fearfully.

"Well it depends on what they say about us?" The boys were absolutely baffled as to why the Queen would be visiting their cell, much less sitting next to them.

"They say he can turn into a wolf at night..."

"Oh, absolutely."

"They say that you're a reincarnation of Aifric Bua, back for revenge."

"Definitely, I used a blend of special herbs for all those nasty burn marks."

"They say Robb eats the flesh of his enemies."

"Only when he has guests for dinner."

"They say you're a witch and that you dazzle men with a spell before plunging them with your sword."

"No spells needed, my dear, they're dazzled by my charm."

The eldest of the boys realised she was joking, Willem she presumed. But Martyn still looked at her with abject fear, entirely believing her words and not questioning her wry smile of amusement.

"You're a Lannister aren't you?" She asked the younger boy, already knowing the answer. He nodded his head nervously and spoke his name. "Well don't worry, my husband only eats children on a full moon. Wait-" she gasped suddenly, turning to the maester, "is it a full moon?"

Amused, the maester nodded his head at her and she gasped again, creeping forward with her hands in the air like claws, "oh no! He's gonna getcha!" She shouted before lunging forward and quickly tickling her hands up and down his sides, causing the boy to squeal with laughter and his brother to join in, giggling.

Fianna whipped around to the older boy, "don't think because you're older you won't be eaten too!" She cried out before reaching out and tickling him too, the boys faces were red from laughter and Fianna found her mood lifting instantly.

When the laughter died, and Fianna stood up to go, they turned their interest to Chroi.

"Will he bite me?"

"No, of course not. He only bites me when he's especially angry and I've given him something off for dinner," she joked, rubbing the top of Chroi's head.

The two boys approached the wolfhound tentatively and reached out with shaking hands to pet the dog. Chroi's tongue hung out, enjoying the attention he was receiving and the boys smiled at this.

They were utterly baffled by how kind Queen Fianna was being to them, almost reluctant to accept her. Perhaps the stories they had been filled about her were wrong. None the less; she was a motherly figure in a time of great distress and they responded positively to that.

* * *

"I've heard whispers about you," Robb mumbled when he finally went to their chambers that night after a long day deliberating. Fianna had still been awake, and she turned around in bed when he climbed in beside her.

"Oh by the gods, what do they have to say now?" She smirked at him as he turned to her and wrapped his arm around her.

"I hear you've been playing with our hostages all day, they rather adore you I've found out."

Fianna grimaced, expecting him to be disappointed.

"They're only boys, Robb. I won't drag them into this war."

Robb was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning her features before he slid his hand up to cup her cheek and press a soft kiss to her lips.

After that, he whipped the blankets off of her, exposing her to the cold air as Robb climbed on top of her.

Instead of trying to initiate sex like she expected, Robb merely lay his body on top of hers and rested his chin on her stomach to look up at her.

"I wonder if you're pregnant," he mused his hand tracing over her stomach. She responded by whacking him on the arm accordingly. He laughed and looked up at her with a grin that made her heart ache, "what? You don't want my children?"

"A child of yours? What a horror," she teased, running her fingers through his curly, auburn hair. "I don't want a child while this war rages on. I want a child with you when we are safe, back in the North."

"Just so," he continued resting his cheek against her stomach and nestling there, "you'll make a great mother to our children."

Her heart clenched at his words and she found she couldn't stop the grin that overtook her face. Children was something she was sure she never wanted, but that had been before Robb. He was changing her in so many ways, she dreaded to think what she would be like if he were to leave her.

* * *

 _Bran_

"Listen to me Rickon," Bran tried to soothe his brother who was kicking up a fuss at his side. "I'm going North of the wall, I have to find the three eyed raven."

"I'm coming with you!" Rickon protested stubbornly, his eyes watering as he readied himself to cry.

"No, you and Osha and Shaggydog will go with Tiernan over there," at those words the two looked up to the man himself, who was stood looking confused. It didn't matter, he knew Tiernan would take care of them. And if he didn't, Osha would kill him anyways. Or Shaggydog. "He's a Bua, Robb's married to Fianna, now. They have to protect you. Robb's at war and I'm going North of the wall, if something happens to us, you're the _heir_ to Winterfell."

But Rickon didn't care, he wanted to be with his brother. Even if it meant sleeping in cold tents and never having good meals. Even if it meant risking his safety, he was too young to care for more than his family at that point.

"He's right, little lord," Osha soothed, crouching down and placing her hand on his back. "If Tiernan is bad, I'll kill him myself. You're safe with me."

"But I don't want to leave you..." with that Rickon's eyes started to spill with tears, but he didn't sob. Which only made it more heartbreaking.

"Come on, little soldier," Osha lifted him up until he stood and wrapped her arm comfortingly around him. "You and me are gonna have a nice old meal, and a bath. And we're gonna have adventures at Baelfort. You might even see that Fianna lady again, or your brother Robb."

"Osha, you don't have to do this-" Bran offered but she waved him off.

"Your family spared me and was good to me when they had no cause to be," she lifted a crying Rickon into her strong arms and looked down to him. "We'll be fine, you and me. The Buas are great warriors. They'll teach you how to swing a sword."

"I already know how to swing a sword," he protested stubbornly, the child in him showing.

Bran beckoned Tiernan over then, hoping to ask him himself if he would take on the task, although he was sure he would.

As he walked over, Osha and Rickon took the time to say their goodbyes.

"Take care of this one," she asked the remaining trio, gesturing to Bran, "he means the world to me."

When Tiernan reached Bran, the little lord gestured for him to sit down so that Bran wouldn't have to crane his neck. He plopped down, albeit he looked awkward sitting there as muscly and as tall as he was.

"I have something to ask of you," Bran started, acting as mature as he ever had in his life. Tiernan nodded for him to continue. "Take my brother with you to Baelfort and take care of him, please."

"Why aren't you coming?" Tiernan asked suspiciously.

"There's something I need to do, and where I'm going - it's not safe for him."

"I was told by Robb to bring you both back alive, if he finds out I let you go-"

"Don't tell him. How could you anyway? You can't risk sending a raven to say that Rickon is at Baelfort. Just please, take care of him until Robb or Fianna have returned and then tell them."

"And what if they ask about you?" He insisted, rubbing his large hand over his face.

"Then tell them the truth, that I had something I needed to do. And that I am safe with company."

This was a bad idea, not taking Bran. Tiernan knew it. But what could he do? If he refused to come he couldn't drag him, and it seemed his "mission" was important to him.

"Alright, little man," Tiernan agreed, lifting his hand out for Bran to shake. "I'll look after him, you can count on me. No one will know he's at Baelfort."

They shook hands then, and Tiernan departed with Osha carrying a crying Rickon and a large direwolf in tow.

* * *

 **Damn, look at me. Taking one Stark child at a time. I should have went back and saved Ned and all at this rate.**

 **I hope you don't mind that I changed that storyline, but remember I said the butterfly effect coming with Fianna and now Tiernan's presence? Things change dramatically because they exist. I also thought it was rather stupid sending Rickon off for three seasons to come back and be killed off instantly. I'm not saying that now that he's with Tiernan he'll definitely survive or his fate is changed and I'm not saying he won't, but his storyline has changed now that's obvious.**

 **Nobody guessed what I hinted at in the last chapter, which makes me think that it's going to be even more of a shock when it's finally revealed!**

 **I hope you all liked this chapter and had a great new year!**

 **Otakugirl1996- well Tiernan definitely changed it there anyway!**

 **reaganrose115 - thanks! I hope you liked this one even if it wasn't as eventful!**

 **RHatch89 - That would be sooo badass! I have this story planned out to the very end so I know well what'll happen you'll just have to wait and see ;) I can't wait to get to the later chapters so everyone can see what direction I'm going!**

 **Ellie - I have mixed feelings on Cat to be honest! From the show and the book I loved her relationship with Robb but I do think she made a lot of mistakes that contributed to Robb losing the war, so I kind of emphasised on that ill judgement of hers in this book and how she'd do anything for her children, which isn't always a good thing! Oh definitely, a wolfhound may be the biggest dog breed there is but fighting Shaggydog? Not a CHANCE. I'm so glad you're happy with that little change I made! I'm like taking the Stark children in my own direction ahah, in this book Tiernan's mother chose his father's name for him out of love for him. But as I said, he has the chance to change to his mother's name now so he can continue the Bua line, as him and Fianna are the only remaining Buas. I hope you liked this chapter and thanks for reviewing!**

 **Shannan - nope you didn't guess it! Perhaps it was too subtle because nobody else guessed it either aha, happy new year and thanks for reviewing x**


	22. (XXI) Wolves At War

_Song: Beautiful War by Kings of Leon_

 _Fianna_

They were roused from their beds late in the night by a knock on the door. Fianna groaned with tiredness and turned around, pulling the furs above her head and whacking her hand against Robb's arm.

"Get that bloody door," she grumbled, which he responded to with a sigh. He got out of bed wearily, rubbing his hands over his face to waken up and tied a robe around his naked body before he answered the door.

Fianna shut her eyes again, intent on returning to her slumber but the words she heard spoken by the person on the other side of the door aroused her from any chance of sleep.

"Your grace, you have to come quick," he spoke in a rushed, panicked tone.

"What is it?" Robb asked, suddenly alert.

"It's Martyn and Willem Lannister, they've been killed."

" _What?_ " Fianna hissed, sitting up straight in the bed and looking directly at their guest at the door. His cheeks flushed instantly, noting Fianna was entirely lacking any clothing.

"We'll be right down," Robb muttered, all but pushing him out of the doorframe to close it and cut off his view of his naked wife. "By the Gods Fianna, will you put some clothes on."

Fianna didn't care for her lack of attire, the current situation was far more dire than her modesty. She whipped the covers off of her bare body and stepped onto the cold stone floor. Instead of picking out the dress she wore earlier in the day, she instead chose breeches and a shirt - which didn't require a handmaiden to lace up.

She dressed in the space of two minutes, as did Robb. Fianna finished before him and ushered him to hurry up, dread was filling through her and it made her antsy.

Fianna had gotten close to the Lannister boys over the course of a few days, the thought that someone would kill them was shocking to her. She knew them to be innocent, the only Lannister qualities they held was the colour of their hair.

When Robb had finally readied himself, she wrenched open the door and shot off down the hallway, Robb having to speed up to catch along with her.

"This is bad, Fianna. Very fucking bad," he mumbled incoherently, dragging a hand through his bed-tousled hair.

They reached the Great Hall, where Catelyn was already awaiting them. She was seated on a bench, her hair unkempt and her face filled with sadness as she looked down at something Robb and Fianna couldn't see yet.

Rounding the corner, that's when they saw it. Fianna halted in her step at the first sight of the bodies, laying sprawled out and lifeless on a large cloth.

Robb took a shaky breath before stepping right up to the sheet, looking down at them with troubled eyes.

After a moment, Fianna was able to move forward again. Her eyes were focused on their faces, their young sweet faces which were untouched by the harsh realities of war. They looked more like children now than ever, like they were asleep rather than slain. Her eyes began to water as she stared down at them, her chest sinking in with empathy.

"Who did this?" Robb asked Brynden, who had been dutifully minding the bodies and awaiting Robb's arrival.

"Rickard Karstark and a few of his men," he replied automatically, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"No," Fianna gasped, shaking her head as the first few tears started to spill over.

"Why would he do this?" Robb asked, his voice hard.

"Vengeance..." Catelyn finally spoke, her voice raspy from tiredness and stress.

Robb looked up to the Blackfish again, his expression becoming stony. "Bring them in."

His great uncle nodded at the command and turned to the large wooden doors, opening them and swiftly nodding to the guards who were holding the Karstark party.

Rickard was brought in quickly, his hands held behind his back. Fianna moved to stand next to Robb, furiously biting her lip to hold in her rage.

When he was brought before the King and Queen, Rickard Karstark stood tall. He was not ashamed, seemingly rather proud in himself. The image of him only served to further infuriate Robb and Fianna.

"Is that all of them?" Robb asked, when a few more imprisoned men were brought in behind Rickard. After the Blackfish nodded, he continued, "it took five of you to murder two unarmed squires?"

"Did they put up a fight? Were you inspired by Theon Greyjoy? Is that it?" Fianna couldn't held but erupt, Robb reached his hand out and wrapped it around her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze to signal her to be quiet.

"Murder, your grace?" Rickard spat, "vengeance."

"Vengeance," Robb repeated.

"Fucking _vengeance_?! For fucking _what-_ " Fianna shouted, her voice echoing around the stone walled room.

"Fianna..." Robb whispered in warning, squeezing her arm again. He was silently begging her to let him handle it. He turned back to Rickard, "those boys didn't murder your sons. I saw Harrion die on the battlefield, and Torrhen-"

"Was strangled! By the Kingslayer, they were his-"

" _THEY WERE BOYS!_ " Robb exploded, causing Fianna to jump. She had never heard his voice so loud before, it was louder than hers had been. Even Lord Karstark was stunned into silence.

Robb took a deep breath to calm down before speaking again in a flat tone, "look at them."

"Tell your mother to look at them," he replied, shooting a glare over to Catelyn, "she killed them as much as I."

"Don't you fucking drag her into this," Fianna defended, causing Catelyn to look up in surprise. "Unless she accompanied you to that cell and buried a knife in one of those boy's bellies, you have no cause to place blame on her. _You_ did this."

"This was your treason," Robb continued, face full of disgust.

"It is treason to free your enemies. In war, you kill your enemies. Did your father not teach you that, boy?" At the mention of Ned, Catelyn's head dropped again in shame.

Whether it was in defence of his sister, his nephew or his good brother, Edmure shot his fist out and landed it on Rickard's cheek, causing him to rear to the side and call out in pain.

At that moment, Fianna decided that she liked Edmure again.

"Leave him," Robb spoke as Rickard fell to his knees.

"Aye," Lord Karstark grumbled again, "leave me to the king. He wants to give me a scolding. Maybe he'll even ask for my hand in marriage like he did for the Bua bitch. That's how he deals with treason."

"I don't see how returning home is equal to the crime you have committed, Lord Karstark," Fianna replied defensively.

"You're a deserter. An oathbreaker. You're as much of one as Catelyn Stark, yet he keeps you both warm in chambers with food in your belly. He even gave you a crown for it. Aye," he stopped to look the couple up and down in disgust, "the King and Queen in the North. Or should I say, the King and Queen who lost the North."

"It will be difficult to sprout insults, when you are without your head," Fianna replied smugly, walking over to Lord Karstark with her hands crossed in front of her.

"It's too bad I haven't got a pussy, clearly that's all that's needed to keep your head around here-"

He was cut off by the force of Fianna's fist against his nose, his head flying back and the momentum causing him to lose balance and fall.

While he was there, seated on the ground with his nose profusely bleeding, she crouched down to speak to him directly, lowly so that no one else could hear.

"Try to remember who your queen is, you may think Robb is forgiving, but I can assure you - I am not."

With those words, he only glared back at her in response as his assigned guards hauled him to his feet.

Fianna stood up swiftly and started to walk back around the square sheet of cloth, avoiding looking at the bodies and the dead eyes that would be looking back at her as she walked to Robb.

"Escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon," Robb commanded, "hang the rest."

" _Mercy! Sire!_ I only watched for the guard!" One cried out, begging.

"This one was only the watcher, hang him last so he can watch the others die."

Catelyn and Fianna shared a glance as Robb walked away, the cries of the man still ringing out as they were being dragged away. Their shared look was one of the same, they had never seen Robb act in such a way. Fianna wondered if it was a side to him she never saw, or if her brash, violent nature was having an influence on him.

Either way, she was worried. As was his mother.

When the prisoners were clear of the hall, Edmure, Catelyn and Fianna all approached Robb. All were practically speechless from the events as Robb sat down, his face etched with tiredness and stress.

"Word of this can't leave Riverrun," Edmure broke the silence, "they were Tywin Lannisters nephews. The Lannisters pay their debts."

"He may not have cared for them enough to get the boys back, but this would give him cause to harm Sansa," Fianna's words caused Robb and Catelyn to grimace.

"Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer, Fianna?" His words were cold and it startled her.

"I-no," she stammered, "I want justice for them, they did not die with honour. But I was just saying-"

"We will bury them and remain silent," Edmure cut over her, and Fianna was silently thankful for it. "Until the war is done.

"I'm not fighting for justice if I don't serve justice to murderers in my ranks," he replied, "no matter how high born. He has to die."

"Karstarks are Northmen," Catelyn finally spoke, approaching the desk he was seated at and standing next to Fianna. "They won't forgive the killing of their Lord."

"But we can't forgive him for intentionally murdering children," Fianna argued. "How is he any different to Theon Greyjoy? Murdering children senselessly?"

Catelyn was silenced by this, and Fianna felt a tinge of guilt for mentioning her children.

"What do you think we should do?" Robb asked Fianna suddenly, surprising her. His voice was lighter so she supposed that unusually tense moment was a fleeting one.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, "the Karstarks will abandon you. We can't afford to lose any more men, but he cannot be set free."

"Then spare his life, keep him as a hostage," Catelyn suggested, and Fianna found herself nodding in agreement.

"It's the only way, they can't abandon you on unjust causes. Killing him would give them a cause," Fianna agreed.

"Tell the Karstarks that as long as they remain loyal, he will not be harmed," Edmure voiced.

Robb was silent for a moment, mulling over his thoughts before looking to his wife. "You cared for them, you should want justice more than any of us in this room."

"And I do, but for so long my logic has been do first, think later and look where that has gotten us. We are weaker than we have ever been, thousands more innocents will die in this war and you need men to end it."

"Theon Greyjoy wouldn't have been sent to the dungeons, he would have been killed and you wouldn't have stopped me. Why is this different?"

"Oh, for all you know he's already dead-" she rambled with an eye roll before stopping when she realised what she had said, Robb's jaw clenching.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fianna cursed herself realising she had slipped slightly. She still hadn't told Robb of Tiernan's message and had no intentions to.

"I was just saying," she rambled, "you don't know where he is. He could be dead."

In truth, she doubted he were. But she also didn't doubt that the Bolton's knew exactly where he was. She had heard Tiernan surrounded Winterfell while Ramsay tore through it, there was no way he would have escaped without being noticed.

Robb stared back into the defiant eyes of his wife, neither refusing to back down on their stance. He was coming to realise exactly who he had married and so was she.

* * *

 _Catelyn_

On the afternoon of the next day, Catelyn was tiredly sat by herself breaking her fast. She had woken up late, needing the extra hours of sleep so Arya had already eaten and wasn't accompanying her.

She hadn't seen her daughter all morning until she happened to look out of a window upstairs to see Fianna and Arya practising yet again. At the beginning, it had infuriated her. But upon countless conversations with Arya since she had returned to her, she came to realise that her girl actually needed Fianna. She couldn't help but respect that.

"Hello", a voice sounded next to her, causing her to jump in surprise. She was even further surprised at the sight of Fianna moving to sit next to her.

Catelyn stayed silent but nodded her head politely, going back to pushing her food around her plate.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, causing Catelyn to furrow her brows. Fianna must want something, she thought.

"I am fine," she replied anyway, eyeing her carefully. She couldn't detect any ill intent in the young girl's face, perhaps only nervousness. "Is there something you need?"

Fianna seemed almost disheartened by Catelyn's question and shook her head quickly, "no, I'm sorry to bother you."

She got up abruptly then, scurrying to get away from Catelyn. Feeling slight guilt, she reached out to grab the girl's hands and encouraged her to sit down again.

"Sit down," she told her and Fianna was quick to sit down again. She rested her elbows on the table, fiddling with her dirtied fingers. "Has Robb decided what he is to do with Lord Karstark?"

"I think he might actually behead him," Fianna admitted with a sigh. "He doesn't listen to me. I think he listened to me more when I was the Lady of Baelfort."

"That's marriage, my dear," Catelyn told her with a kind smile, "if Ned had listened to me, perhaps he'd be alive right now."

Her smile faded with her words, the pain of Ned's memory had never left her and in truth, she didn't think it ever would.

Sensing her sadness, Fianna placed her hand on top of Cat's and squeezed it softly.

"I am sorry," Fianna whispered, her tone full of emotion, "I'm so sorry."

Catelyn realised she wasn't just apologising for Ned, perhaps she was apologising for everything over the last few months.

"I am as much to blame," Catelyn replied, gripping the girl's hand and squeezing it in return. "Now tell me, what troubles you?"

Fianna shook her head, distress showing on her face, "I fear that I am failing as queen."

"Why?"

"When I married Robb it wasn't to be a bloody queen, but I wanted to use it for good. I wanted to win this war for him, for the people, for the North. But I feel helpless here, like I'm not doing anything at all and just watching as it all goes to shit," she paused realising her foul language, "forgive me, my lady."

"Your intentions are there, you just have to find a way to fulfil them. Kings and Queens don't just spend their rule fighting battles, you're a warrior so you haven't realised that yet. It is your duty to look out for the common people too, not just to plan battle strategies and defeat your enemies."

Fianna blinked rapidly as she took in her words, nodding her head as she listened.

"You feel helpless because you haven't fought a battle in a while, being queen is more than that."

"You deserve the crown more than I do," Fianna admitted with a sad smile.

"I doubt the Northerners would like that!" Catelyn said in an amused tone.

"They don't like me much more either, perhaps they're intimidated by us," Fianna waggled her eyebrows at her causing Catelyn to chuckle.

"I'm going to go," Fianna continued, standing up, "but thank you. I'm glad we had this chat."

Catelyn nodded her head in return at her, surprisingly she found herself agreeing with Fianna.

As the young queen left the room, a small smile on her face and a renewed sense of hope in her heart, she ran straight into Robb who looked confused by her happy demeanour.

"Were you just talking to my mother?" He asked suspiciously, a smirk forming on his lips.

"Yes."

"And?" He pushed, his smirk widening.

"She's not so bad," she admitted with the roll of her eyes, causing Robb to sarcastically raise his hands and thank the gods.

Fianna responded by whacking him on the arm, and then wrapping her elbow around his as he led them towards the council room for yet another deliberation.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"So you're doing it then?" Fianna spoke with a hollow voice, refusing to look her husband in the eyes. "You mean to execute him."

He had called for the occupants of the room to leave so he could speak with her, tell her of his intentions.

"It's what's right, Fianna," he replied coldly.

"What's right?" She echoed. "How are you any different from Joffrey if you do this?"

"How am I the same as Joffrey?" He bellowed, standing up from his chair behind his desk. "He executed my father who was an innocent man, Lord Karstark is _a murderer_!"

"Joffrey executed your father and expected the Starks to remain loyal to him! You will execute Lord Karstark and expect the Karstark men to remain loyal to you! He brought _thousands_ with him, Robb!"

"So I should choose who brings the biggest party over what's right?!" He shouted back at her.

"No! But you should at least listen to me when I tell you another solution! A _better_ solution!"

"Well then it's a good thing I'm King and not you isn't it? My word is final. Not yours."

His words cut through her and stirred and unimaginable amount of offence and anger.

"If I was King I'd have won this war by now. Let us not forget I'm the reason you have Riverrun at all. Do not dare throw titles at me, I thought we were to be equals." Her voice was dangerous as she spoke to him, her fists balled at her sides and her eyes hardened.

"We can't be equals, Fianna. I'm the King. And you're the Queen."

"Well you're not a King I want to rule beside if you won't listen to the advice of your queen," she fired back.

"I have listened. I just choose not to follow it," he walked swiftly by her, storming out of the room. His shoulders were tense as he ordered a guard to ready Lord Karstark.

Fianna shook her head and cursed under her breath. Frustrated, she whipped the crown off her head and threw it angrily onto the top of his desk, causing an ear-ringing clang.

Following after Robb, the rain began to beat down on the castle. But she had no choice to go outside and watch as Robb would make, what she considered, the biggest mistake under his rule.

Fianna was stood in between Catelyn and Edmure, a small canopy was set up for them to stand under to protect them from the rain. Robb bared no heed to the ill conditions as he stood waiting for his guards to appropriately place Lord Karstark over the pedestal to be beheaded.

His curls were soaking wet and sticking to his forehead, but his expression was what struck Fianna. It held such a fierceness she would have been afraid had he not been her husband.

When all was ready, Robb approached Lord Karstark to hear his final words.

"The bloody of the first men flows through my veins as much as yours, boy," Rickard spoke cryptically. "I fought the mad king for your father, I fought Joffrey for you. We are kin, Stark and Karstark."

"That didn't stop you from betraying me," Robb's said in a deadly tone. "And it won't save you now."

"I don't want it to save me. I want it to haunt you till the end of your days."

"Kneel, my Lord," Robb commanded.

And so he did, Lord Karstark got down on his two knees and positioned himself over the wooden stand.

"Don't do it," Fianna begged under her breath, "you fucking idiot."

"Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold, here in sights of Gods and Men I sentence you to die. Would you speak a final word?" Robb unsheathed his sword from its scabbard.

"Kill me and be cursed! You are no King of mine!"

With that, Catelyn closed her eyes tightly. But not Fianna. She wanted to watch and witness this moment, she wanted it to burn a reminder into her skull, that if ever they were to lose this damned war, this would be a key turning point in Robb's downfall.

Dread and disappointment filled her as Robb lifted his sword high and swung straight and true, slicing off Rickard Karstark's head in one blow.

His fists balled angrily as he stormed away from the execution sight, not sparing a glance to his mother or wife. Fianna shook her head silently as she watched the guards start to remove what remained of Rickard Karstark.

Normally she would find Robb and comfort him from his troubles, but not now. They both needed to be alone now.

* * *

It was late into the night and he still hadn't joined her in bed.

The insecure side of Fianna taunted her, telling her that he had found himself in the bed of another woman. That he couldn't bear to lay next to her.

The night stretched on and no matter how much she tossed and turned she couldn't sleep. Nor could Chroi, who usually lay at the foot of their bed. Chroi had grown so attached to Robb, Fianna thought it was cute until now. She wanted her dog to hate her husband for being an arrogant prick, not whimper every few minutes because he missed him.

Finally, she had enough and whipped the covers off of her, alerting Chroi who sat up alertly. She shrugged her robe over her night clothes and tied it around her, before venturing out into the hallway to track down her estranged husband. Her wolfhound trailing after her.

She didn't have to look far, her insecurities were quenched at the sight of him bent over that damned map of Westeros in the council room. He looked up as the door creaked, revealing his wife.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, the stubbornness clear on their faces. It was Fianna who broke the silence.

"Chroi won't sleep without you, so hurry up and go to bed."

At the mention of his name, the dog whined again and padded across the floor until he reached Robb, nuzzling his nose into Robb's palm.

Robb responded by gently petting the wolfhounds head and smiling softly.

"It's just the dog that misses me is it?" He asked, looking over to her again.

"Yes. I couldn't care less if you join me or not." She brushed off her emotions in favour of appearing detached, but Robb saw right through it.

He sighed and left the table, approaching his stubborn queen with an apologetic smile and his arms out.

"Don't-" she warned, holding a finger up to him. But he ignored her anyway, placing his hands underneath her armpits and lifting Fianna up into the air. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist then to hold her to his body, her dangling above the ground.

"I am not just your wife," she wriggled in his grip trying to get free. "I'm Fianna Bua, I'm a warrior! I'm a Queen! I'm not beneath you-"

"I know," he soothed, slipping her down in his arms until her face was closer to his and not so far above. "But you're not Fianna Bua, my love, you're Fianna Stark now."

"Well I'll easily become Fianna Bua if you ever pull that shit again," she rambled stubbornly, looking everywhere except at him.

"I love you," he murmured, slipping her down until her feet touched the ground but keeping his arms around her. "Do you hear me?"

"No, I'm suddenly deaf," she drawled sarcastically.

"You're my Queen," he cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. And looking into those wide, Tully blue eyes of his she knew she wouldn't be able to resist much longer.

"Well," she sighed as he leaned his forehead against hers, "bloody act like it then."

"I will, I'm sorry," he whispered before pressing his lips to hers. She smiled softly into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and seated her on the table, knocking over the pawns in the process.

"What do you think you're doing, my King?" She giggled as he slid his hands up her nightgown.

"Whatever you want me to do, my queen."

* * *

 **This was a bit of a filler, and I'd like to make it known I haaaate doing chapters like this- that just follow the main storyline, but unfortunately it needs to be done to progress through GoT. Sorry lads.**

 **So yeah! Catelyn and Fianna aren't locking horns any more! I couldn't have them hating each other much longer, I love girl power and despite her mistakes I do respect Catelyn and I wanted them to bond. Much like Arya and Fianna have.**

 **I hope you liked it anyway! Please let me know what you think!**

 **reaganrose115 - I'm laughing evilly.**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - Good I'm glad to hear it! These are all such good theories but it STILL wasn't the hint I was referring to, I'm starting to think maybe I was too subtle? But anyways, I loved your theories!**

 **Hiimprettyawesomehowboutyou- Thank you! I love changing the story and I always worry that people will react negatively to main storylines being changed!**

 **Shannan- I will say that that's not what I was talking about, but I should probably stop now telling people if they're wrong in case someone gets it right and then I'm screwed and it's spoiled. But all the theories so far might still happen but I was just referring to one in particular! Thank you so much for reviewing again you're a gem x**


	23. (XXII) All Men Must Cry

_Song: We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow by Soko_

 _Fianna_

After they had _finished,_ she was in the midst of tugging back on her night clothes - thanking the gods all the while that nobody had walked in on them. But she supposed it was rather late, none the less.

Robb was only in his breeches, setting about placing the pawns back on the map in their respective places. She noticed when she turned back to him his eyes lingered on Winterfell, he was longing to go home and everyone with eyes to see could notice that.

Fianna walked to him and wrapped her arms around him from the side, placing her cheek against his bare chest and squeezing his body softly.

"I love you," she reminded him, hoping it would ease his homesickness. He responded by wrapping his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder.

"I hate this bloody thing," she admitted, which he smirked in amusement at.

"Whys that?"

"I've spent so much time looking at it I swear I know every little curve of the coastline and every inch of the wall," she complained, lifting one hand off of Robb and drifting her fingers beside the lake where she knew Baelfort was.

"You miss home too?"

"Sometimes, its been so long now I don't even know if it's my home any more," she sighed, dropping her hand from where her fingers flitted over, to place it on Robb's stomach.

"You're home with me," he told her, causing her to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. She smiled softly and raised an eyebrow in response.

"You're not wrong."

He turned back to look at the map, but Fianna found she couldn't take her eyes away from him. From the hook of his nose, to the set of his lips, she was absolutely enthralled with Robb Stark and the passion that had developed between the two never ceased to falter, even when they did fight. She doubted it ever would.

Fianna was brought back to reality when his eyebrows furrowed, he dropped his arm from her and quickly walked to the other side of the table, his eyes focused on something.

"What is it?"

"I can't force them to meet us in the field, and I can't attack them where they're strongest, but I can attack them where they're not," she watched as he lifted a wolf head and moved it, she narrowed her eyes when she realised where. "Casterly Rock can't run away."

He plucked the wolf head up and into his hand, squeezing it tightly as he spoke, almost as if his very words excited him. "I'm going to take their home away from them, Fianna."

"Robb," she began, shaking her head, "this won't work! We don't have enough men, especially not since the Karstarks have left."

"But if we had the men to replace the Karstarks?" He asked giddily.

"Then.. yes. Casterly Rock isn't far from Riverrun and if Tywin had gotten word of it he still wouldn't reach it in time to defend it. But Robb, its a _fortress._ And it's got the sea at its back!"

"You're telling me that if I gave you the army, you wouldn't figure out a way into Casterly Rock?" He asked with a quirk of his brow. She was silenced by that, knowing that she probably could devise something.

"None the less, we don't have the men for it."

"There's one man in this Kingdom with that kind of army who hasn't sided with the Lannisters yet," Fianna immediately began to shake her head. She knew rightly who he was about to suggest and she wasn't hearing it.

"Nope!" She said, stubbornly. Turning around and getting ready to return to bed.

"The man who's daughter I was supposed to marry," he continued anyway, "Walder Frey."

She whipped back to face him when he spoke the old man's name, her index finger in the air.

"Don't be such a _fool,_ Robb Stark! You betrayed the man, do you really think he's going to forgive that _and_ supply you with an army?!" She ranted, her finger shaking at him with disapproval.

"If I could maybe just meet with him then we could sort something out!"

"He'll have you killed in an instant! Not a chance will I allow you to do this!"

Robb narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he approached his wife, his gaze travelling up and down her body.

"You're awfully moody as of late, is something troubling you?"

"Yes, my husband clearly _wants_ to lose this war and his head while he's at it," she sighed exasperatedly, running her hand through her messy curls.

"We'll discuss it tomorrow," he conceded, placing one hand on her lower back as he began to lead her back to their chambers to sleep. Before closing the door, a glint caught his eye from his desk, causing him to shake his head with a chuckle. "Do you want your crown back, love?"

Her cheeks flushed, remembering her outburst earlier when she had thrown it onto the desk, enraged.

"Maybe tomorrow," she muttered, causing him to let out another laugh.

* * *

Fianna grunted as Arya's thin sword rested against the side of her neck, lifting her hand and pushing it off her, she then wiped her forehead with the back of her hand - a thin layer of sweat having formed.

"I'm getting good at this," Arya bragged with a smirk, to which Fianna rolled her eyes at.

"No you're not, I'm just not paying attention today." In retaliation, Fianna crouched down suddenly and swept her foot out, hitting the back of her legs and effectively knocking Arya flat onto her back.

"That was a dirty move!" She complained, swinging her legs around and jumping back to her feet swiftly.

"You think your enemies will care if they're fighting honourably or not? Never celebrate too early!"

Arya rolled her eyes, tossing Needle onto the ground she brushed her dirtied hands against her breeches.

"So what's wrong with you then? Did you and my brother have a little lover's quarrel?" Arya scrunched her face up to show her sarcasm and Fianna in response shoved the girl, playfully.

"It's not a lover's quarrel, Robb has decided he wants to go to Walder Frey and try to win his support," Fianna smiled brightly, obviously fake, then picked up her strewn sword, gesturing for Arya to do the same.

"Why would he do that?" She asked, positioning herself to copy Fianna's stance as they raised their swords again.

"Because he needs more men now, so he's decided to go to someone who he's practically betrayed," she grunted as she blocked each of Arya's swings that came at her.

"Men are so stupid," Arya said, eliciting a laugh from Fianna as they clanged swords together.

"Men would die from stupidity if they didn't have women," Fianna agreed.

"Valar morghulis," Arya spoke suddenly, causing Fianna to furrow her brows.

"What's that?"

"All men must die." Arya was so serious when she spoke it, it almost weirded Fianna out.

"Gods, don't tell me that," she joked to ease the sudden tension, "I haven't got a babe out of him yet. Where did you hear that?"

"I read about it somewhere," she said off-handedly, shrugging.

* * *

 _Robb_

"You look pale," he commented curiously, eyeing his young wife. She was sat at dinner with him a few evenings later, barely touching her food and looking as if she couldn't bear to eat it.

"It's this food, it's disgusting," she complained, pushing it about the plate with her fork.

"It's not that bad," Robb replied with a raise of his eyebrows, comfortingly putting his hand on her knee.

"I think if I eat it, it'll come right back up," she admitted, dropping the fork and leaning back in the chair.

"Are you ill?" He asked, squeezing her leg. "Shall I ask them to make you something else?"

"I don't know and gods no, I'm not spoiled, I wouldn't ask them to do that," she seemed appalled by the idea, as if the cooks at Riverrun didn't adore her and wouldn't have made anything at her request. They were honoured to be serving their queen at all.

Fearing the food poisoned, Robb dragged the plate over to his side of the table and speared his fork through a lump of chicken. Instead of tasting it, he brought it to his nose and smelled it. It didn't have a peculiar scent, smelling the same as his own food. None the less, he was worried.

"Come on, I'm taking you to the maester," he told her, standing up and holding his hand out to her.

"Robb, I'm _fine_ ," she protested but he wasn't having it, slipping his hand into hers he gently tugged her up from her seat.

They walked from the great hall and towards the maester at Riverrun's solar, tenderly he reached up and fixed the positioning of her crown. He was glad to see it on the head of its rightful owner again.

"Walder Frey's sons should be arriving soon," he commented casually as they walked, causing her to internally roll her eyes.

"Wonderful."

"You have to trust me on this Fianna."

"The man thinks you didn't want to marry his daughter and only betrothed yourself to her to cross the bridge, he doesn't know that _you_ didn't know we were betrothed." She lifted her hand in the air to exaggerate her point.

"Then we'll have to tell him, won't we?" She didn't have time to argue with him, looking up they had reached the solar.

"I don't think there's much wrong with her, your grace," he spoke kindly, after examining the young queen. But much to her annoyance, he spoke to Robb about Fianna's health instead of directly to Fianna herself. "Only a slight fever, which we'll have to keep an eye on."

"A fever?" Robb asked worriedly, "what could have caused that?"

"A number of reasons, perhaps our young queen is simply coming down with a cold."

"So I'm okay then!" Fianna spoke in a sarcastically happy voice, hopping up from seating to standing and bounding over to the door.

"If she develops any more symptoms, please notify me," he told Robb, which Robb took very seriously, nodding his head with scrunched brows.

Fianna user to hear whispers that the Starks were very serious folk, looking at Robb she didn't dispute that they were exactly right.

* * *

It was the next day when they arrived. Surprisingly, Fianna was allowed to attend the deliberations - along with Catelyn, Edmure and Brynden.

Robb had his mind set on this, and there was no changing that. In truth, she didn't fight him much about it. She knew that, theoretically, it was a brilliant plan. But she also heard the whispers about Walder Frey, he was not a man she would willingly cross. Although, she supposed she had done just that.

She couldn't find it in herself to blame Robb and herself for the Freys ill-opinion of them. After all, the Frey party left Robb when that damned Theon Greyjoy broke the word that they were betrothed. At that point, Robb hadn't even spoken of his intention to marry Fianna, yet they had still left.

"Thank you for riding so quickly," Robb politely started, seated at the table with Fianna on one side and Edmure on the other. "I know travel isn't easy in these times."

"The roads are crawling with cut-throats and bandits," Lothar Frey spoke in reply to Robb, but he kept his gaze on Fianna. Which she found rather uncomfortable. "But when the King of the North summons us, we come."

The disrespect for Robb was strong in this one, she noted. Fianna was just waiting for a sarcastic comment about herself, which was obviously brewing in his mind. She stared defiantly back into his eyes, refusing to be ashamed by his gaze.

"Our father has instructed us to tell you that our alliance with the North _can_ continue," Black Walder continued, the calmer one of the two. "If his terms are met."

"What are his terms, my lord?" Fianna clasped her hands together on the table, fidgeting slightly when both sets of brown Frey eyes turned to look at her - the resentment in them as dark as their irises.

"Lord Frey demands a formal apology for your violation of his sacred oath to marry one of his daughters."

Ah, there it was, she thought. The beginning of the digs about her marriage.

"Of course," Robb replied earnestly, "he deserves as much. Although if it would ease his mind, I had no knowledge of my betrothal before I swore that vow, and only honoured it because it was my father who wished for it."

Fianna brought her hands underneath the table to clench into fists in her lap. She knew that wasn't the only reason Robb married her, he was simply trying to play nice to the Freys for his own advantage. But still, the words affected her none the less.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Robb slipped his hand under the table and placed it gently on top of her fist, squeezing it once to show that he was there. It was a simple action, but it was enough to soothe her worries.

The Frey men nodded their heads, looking as if they didn't believe him.

"As restitution for this... betrayal," Lothar practically spat the word, "he demands Harrenhal. And all it's attendant lands."

It was silent for a moment, each of the five on the opposite side of the table having their own opinions on this. It was a selfish ask, but Robb was desperate. At this rate he would have given his left foot for those men.

"Well I don't think that's-" Edmure voiced, before being cut off by Robb - who was desperately trying to appear calm and in control of those at his side, and of course trying to prevent Edmure from insulting them.

"We're fighting for the North," he said to Edmure, which Fianna had to hold in a giggle at. It was rather amusing watching how quickly Robb lost his patience with his older uncle. "Harrenhal is not in the North, but it is yours. Once the war is over and we have no further strategic need for it."

Catelyn and Fianna shared a glance, he was getting desperate indeed. They could tell by the stiffness of his shoulders and the rushed tone of his voice.

"And there's something else," Black Walder continued, not even looking at all happy by the news that Robb was agreeing to their terms.

"We will do whatever we can to give Lord Frey what he needs."

"Not what," Lothar replied instead, "whom." With the way his eyes were so dead set on Fianna, she worried for a second he was referring to her. But at the last second, his gaze shifted over to Edmure.

The poor git hadn't even noticed, sipping on his drink as calm as the Summer sky. It was only when all of them turned to look at him, he paid attention again.

"What?" He asked stupidly, and Fianna leaned back to look to the Blackfish, their lips pursed to prevent a laugh from erupting.

After a few prolonged moments of silence, Edmure finally picked up on the reason behind the stares.

"Oh," he let out a nervous laugh, "no."

"Our father requires Lord Edmure to marry one of his daughters, Roslyn," Black Walder said smugly.

"How old is she?" He asked immediately, causing Brynden to give him a side eye glance.

"Nineteen, close in age to the beautiful Queen of the North, of course," he looked to Fianna with a smile that made her skin crawl.

"Can I see her first?" Fianna snorted at that, the entire room turning to look at her but she only waved them off, pretending it was a cough. She was sure Robb would have laughed if the situation had not been so dire.

"You want to count her teeth? We depart for the Twins in the morning. We need an answer before we leave, and a wedding within a month thereafter. Or this alliance is at an end."

"Your father does realise we're in the middle of a war?" The Blackfish asked sarcastically, speaking for the first time since their arrival. His disapproval of House Frey was clear from the onset, but unlike Edmure, he wasn't foolish enough to voice it.

"Father is old, it would set his heart at peace if he could see her wed to a good husband."

"And his recent experience has made him weary of long engagements," Lothar added bitterly.

"Well, I can assure you Edmure doesn't have any secret betrothals," Fianna joked, attempting to cut the tension. But the entire room only turned to glare at her yet again.

"He has every right to be," Robb agreed, like a puppy following their words. "Please excuse us while we discuss it."

They all remained silent until the Freys disappeared from sight behind a shut door, and then it broke.

"Why should I let that old ferret choose my bride for me?" Edmure asked not a second after the door shut, Fianna finally erupted into the fit of laughter she had been concealing for some time.

"Fianna," Catelyn scolded, looking at her disapprovingly but not even that could halt her amusement.

"At the very least I should be offered the same choice you were," he continued to rant, getting off his seat to pace towards the window. "I'm his liege lord!"

"Yeah but you're not a King are you?" Fianna teased, her smile bright when Edmure glared at her in response.

"He's a proud man and we've wounded him," Robb explained, ignoring his wife's antics. Her moods lately went from giddy to angry to sad, he assumed it was the stress of war getting to her so he didn't want to correct her for it.

"I didn't wound him, my answer is no."

"Oi," Fianna called out, her humour quickly diminishing, "it is because we dealt with the Freys in the first place that you're standing here in your home and not Jaime Lannister."

Edmure went to reply, but was cut off as Brynden rose from his seat and approached his nephew stiffly.

"You listen to me, and listen very carefully," he threatened, but Edmure was quick to retort.

"The laws of Gods and men are clear, no man can compel another man to marry!"

"The laws of my fist are about to compel your teeth," Blackfish sneered, squaring up. By the gods, Fianna adored that man.

"He's right, you heard him," Robb called out, causing the potential physical fight about to break out to stop before it even started with Brynden walking away. "If you refuse, our alliance with the Freys is dead."

"He's wanted me for one of his daughters since I was twelve. He's not gonna stop wanting it now. I'm not as lucky as you, I haven't got some maiden from the Riverlands secretly betrothed to me. When I say no, he will come back and offer me a daughter of my choosing."

"And when will that be?" Fianna enquired. "Tomorrow? When the war is over? In twenty years? It's too much of a risk just for your bloody selfish need for a good looking bride!"

"You're willing to risk our freedom and our life for the chance of a prettier bride?" Catelyn echoed Fianna's sentiments.

He was ready to protest again, but Robb was breaking his cool, "we have a war to fight! We can't win it without them. I have no time to haggle! You said you wanted to make amends for the stone mill."

"That you did," Fianna agreed.

"You recall that heroic engagement?" Brynden asked sarcastically.

"I had..." Edmure stuttered, "something less permanent in mind."

"I've won every battle, but I'm losing this war," Robb's voice almost broke Fianna's heart. She couldn't even deny it, they were facing another obstacle each day and every time it seemed to push them back rather than forward.

"If we don't do this and do it now," Robb continued, looking to his Queen with a saddened expression, "we're lost."

She shook her head, holding his gaze as she reached out and cupped her hand around his, bringing his hand to her mouth and gently pecking a comforting kiss to his knuckles.

"I'll marry her," Edmure announced after a few tense moments of silence. Robb exhaled loudly in relief.

"You're paying for my sins, uncle. It's not fair or right-"

"No, he's paying for my sins," Catelyn cut him off, smiling sadly at her son and brother. "I was the one to encourage you to marry her, knowing of the betrothal anyway, for my own selfish reasons. I will remember this, Edmure."

Robb called for the Freys to re-enter the room, and Fianna decided her presence was no longer necessary. Frankly, she didn't want to be there at that moment. She was feeling nauseous enough and she was unsure of whether it was her health again or the conversation they just shared.

* * *

 **Everyone's just wondering what way I'm going to continue with this and I'm just like muahahahah. Feeling a bit like George RR Martin himself. Savour these chapters lads, that's all I'm going to say.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and feel free to leave a review if you so wish x**

 **reaganrose115- Thank you, I hope you liked this one x**

 **RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond - It's all planned out you'll just have to wait and see! Thank you so much!**

 **RHatch89 - Oh don't we all? I hope you liked this one x**

 **Guest - No, unfortunately they left! I don't think I could have changed that really, seeing as Fianna's men left because she did I couldn't have made the Karstark men stay when their lord is beheaded. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **jean d'arc - I'm glad it didn't feel like a filler, perhaps this one will though! I love writing Cat and Fianna bonding now, I feel like there's a mutual respect and seeing as Fianna doesn't have a mother it would be nice for Catelyn to be a kind of mother figure to her. You're absolutely spot on about Robb! The same with Jon and Ned, they boast about honour but they're more concerned with appearing honourable that they don't realise when they're actually doing things that aren't honourable at all. Unfortunately, the Karstark men did leave. Like I said above, Fianna's men left when she left, the Karstark men would definitely have left too if their lord was killed. I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for reviewing!**

 **Shannan - She really doesn't haha, growing up with only men and no female influences will do that I'd guess! I'm happy you don't think their fight is unnecessary drama or anything, they're young and married it's a recipe for many fights! I'm also glad you didn't think it was much of a filler, it's my biggest fear! Thank you for reviewing!**


	24. (XXIII) Wolf-pup in the Forest

_Song: I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie_

 _Fianna_

He waited at the door of their chambers anxiously, leaving it open so he could still see Fianna while simultaneously being able to watch for the maester.

"You're making a big deal out of nothing, Robb," Fianna called out with a hoarse voice, her skin had a sweaty sheen to it and her eyes tiredly watched her worried husband fret over her.

It was almost into the early hours of the morning, with not a soul awake yet in Riverrun, when Fianna had rushed from her bed to throw up in the chamberpot. Robb was roused from his sleep immediately, tending to his ill wife even though she had begged him to leave her while she vomited.

He had called for a maester immediately, it had been a week since he took his wife to visit him and her symptoms had stayed the same, fluctuating. But now she was vomiting and the maester had told him prior to this if she exhibited any more symptoms to fetch him.

If it had been a cold she would surely be getting better by now, right?

They were due to start the journey to the Twins when day broke, but Robb wasn't sure she would be able to ride in this condition. Not that he wanted her to.

"Finally," he sighed when the hunched over maester came into sight, hurrying towards the King and Queen's chamber.

"Your grace," he greeted, entering the room and immediately making way towards the queen. "Has her condition worsened?"

"She's been vomiting the last hour or so," Robb closed the door hurriedly, moving to sit by his wife but making sure to stay out of the maester's way.

Maester Burren placed his wrinkled hand over her sweaty forehead, a crease forming between his brows.

"She does feel as if she still has a fever," he commented, "have you eaten today, your grace?"

"Yes, a little," she replied, her eyes struggling to stay open with tiredness.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Your grace," he turned to look at Robb, "may I request to speak with the Queen alone for a few moments?"

Robb was hesitant to leave but after a stern look from Fianna he agreed with a nod of his head, leaving the room and standing outside of the door respectfully.

"In truth, Maester Burren, I am a lot more worried than I let my husband see," she began when Robb was out of sight, looking to him with a suddenly saddened expression.

"Why so, your grace?"

"My father's illness started out much the same, with vomiting and violent mood swings. He would even get angry with me, and he never before got angry with me. The fever had drove him mad," she looked away as she explained, the memories of her father were starting to fade from memory and it broke her heart to think one day she might not remember him at all, or at least, remember him before his illness.

"I see," was all he said, mulling over his thoughts.

"I've heard of illnesses that can be passed from parent to child as easily as eye colour, could this be the disease that took my father?" She asked nervously, chewing her lower lip and finally looking back to him with wide, frightened eyes.

"I'm not sure, dear," he told her dotingly, he surely hoped not. She was so young to be taken by illness before her life truly began. "We will have to monitor you carefully over the next coming days. Perhaps you have just eaten something bad and need some rest."

"Yes, perhaps..." she repeated, not really believing it. She wasn't sure if it was the disease, but she had a gut feeling it was something.

"I must advise you stay in bed for the day and see if rest will help you," he told her before standing up slowly, his old bones cracking from the exertion.

"But we are supposed to start riding today," she protested, the idea of being left behind panicking her.

"Don't worry, Queen Fianna, I will tell your husband what I have told you and I am sure he will postpone riding."

"Maester Burren, if I may ask, please don't tell him what I told you. I don't want to worry him, until I am sure."

He only nodded in response, leaving the room as she absently looked down towards the foot of her bed.

When the door opened, Robb was on the other side of it, curiously looking to his wife before down to the maester for his verdict.

"Perhaps it is a passing thing, she will need to be bed-ridden for today and I will check her condition again tomorrow."

"Should I delay making our way for the Twins then?"

Maester Burren looked back to Fianna, who was already starting to doze off to sleep.

"Yes, she can't ride in that condition," he told him seriously. Robb looked at him gratefully, although worry clouded his features. He thanked the maester as he made his way back to his own bed before shutting the door silently, so as not to wake his sleeping wife, and joining her again in bed for a few more hours. Not that he would sleep a minute more, anyway.

* * *

It was well into the middle of the day when Fianna finally awoke, she blearily opened her eyes in confusion, wondering what the hour was. Robb had the curtains drawn so there was no way of telling by the daylight outside.

Fianna rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands, feeling much better than she had that morning. But she wasn't going to get out of bed yet until she was given the all-clear.

Robb had left a few hours before, intent on carrying out his duties and telling everyone of the delay to marching. Edmure seemed relieved, the longer the march was put off, the later he would be forced to marry the Frey girl. Catelyn was antsy, not wanting to prolong their absence from the Twins.

Getting up carefully in case her nausea should return, Fianna padded barefoot over to the small bookshelf that was in their room. She scanned through the titles quickly, there wasn't much variety to the books - mainly history books about the great houses of Westeros.

Surprisingly, she plucked out a book on the Targaryen family and crossed the room back to the bed, climbing underneath the covers to get comfortable.

Fianna opened the book and began to flick through the pages, barely reading anything as she was already well versed in Targaryen history. It was in her blood to absolutely abhor them and their rule, but she couldn't deny they were without a doubt the most interesting family in the seven kingdoms.

She stopped flicking through when she landed on one specific page, a large title on the top indicating its topic, which was 'Traits'.

 _The Targaryen family originate from Valyria, and thus from generations of inbreeding, still display Valyrian physical qualities. Such features include pale skin, hair of silver, platinum or gold, and eyes in a variety of shades - ranging from purple, blue and grey._

 _Targaryens are seemingly prone to madness, presumedly from inbreeding. As the words of King Jaehaerys II go, "madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, the Gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land."_

Fianna shut the book closed and tossed it onto the bed, away from her. Out of boredom, she picked up the small, handheld mirror from the table aside her bed and held it to her face.

Fianna grimaced noticing how pale and sickly she looked, although she did feel better. She began to examine her features. Fianna had been told since she was a child she resembled little of her father, perhaps only in the set of her jaw and her nose. Where her father's hair was red and straight, hers was a curly brown. Where her father's eyes were a mossy green, hers were a bright grey, with undertones of blue.

More than ever, Fianna wished she knew what her mother looked like. So she could see herself if she looked as much like her as she was always told. Did that mean she looked like her estranged grandfather? Or her foreign grandmother who died in childbirth?

Her thoughts were disrupted by the creak of the door opening, she carefully placed the mirror down again and looked up to see who was visiting her.

"Looking at yourself in the mirror won't make you look any better," a teasing voice called out, causing a grin to break out on Fianna's face.

"You would know, I'm sure you've tried it," she teased back, causing Arya to roll her eyes.

"You just pretending to be sick to get out of training is that it?" She asked, sitting at the bottom of the bed next to Fianna's feet.

"That's exactly it, have to take a break from knocking you on your arse eventually." Fianna sat up in bed, lifting the pillows behind her to sit upright.

"What's wrong with you, anyway?"

"They don't know," Fianna shook her head, deciding on being somewhat honest with Arya. The girl had seen her fair share of trauma, she was mature enough to handle this. Had it been another girl her age, Fianna would tell her it was simply a bout of tiredness.

"Don't go dying on us anyway, I couldn't bear to have Robb crying all over me," Arya joked, a sad smile on her lips. She was actually worried about her good sister, who she had bonded with so much since they met.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

After a day and a nights rest, the maester had come again to visit her in the early hours of the next morning. They were running out of time, and Robb would have to depart without her if she wasn't any better.

Luckily for them both, when the maester had visited she was feeling much better than before. Her fever had gone down, and she was feeling much better - even being able to keep food down.

He had no choice but to tell Robb that she was fit to travel again, although Fianna would have forced his hand either way.

So in the afternoon, they all readied their horses and luggage and set off to ride to the Twins, with Fianna and Robb leading the party down the road.

Her hair was tied in a braid and she wore her armour once again, instead of a dress or breeches which she usually donned when she was staying at Riverrun.

"Roose Bolton will be joining us," Robb informed her a short while into riding. Fianna whipped her head to look at him at this, her eyes wide in shock.

"I better have just misheard you, Robb," she threatened, her posture stiffening on her horse as she held the reigns tighter.

Fianna did not forget Tiernan's words, they were easier to ignore when he was in charge of Harrenhal and out of sight, but now she would have to look at him. Fianna still didn't know the extent of his treachery, but she wouldn't trust him within two feet of her or Robb.

"I know you don't trust him-"

"You're right, I don't," she agreed coldly.

"Well you can't expect me to not trust him unless you tell me why you don't," he paused for a second, looking to her then, "he didn't... try anything with you, did he?"

"Gods, no!" She shook her head, disgust in her voice. "I'd have had him picking up his teeth with broken fingers had he tried."

"Then what is it?"

"I just don't trust him, Robb. He's a slimy man, him and Walder Frey both. If you had your wits about you, you wouldn't trust him either."

* * *

 _Catelyn_

They had been riding for what felt like days, but in reality was probably only one, before Robb finally decided to set up camp.

Lovingly, he reached up and lifted his wife from her horse after dismounting his own, brushing a few specks of dirt off of her nose before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

"Are you feeling alright, my love?" He asked for the millionth time since they departed from Riverrun, cupping her cheeks with his hands.

"Yes, dear," she hummed, placing her hands on his hips and leaning into his embrace.

"Sorry to interrupt," Catelyn Stark's polite voice made them spring after as if they had been pushed, embarrassingly they looked up to her with reddened cheeks - humiliated she had caught them in a loving moment.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Fianna apologised, causing Robb to shake his head with a chuckle. Fianna and his mother had a very different dynamic these days, and it was pleasant for him to watch.

"Walk with me, will you?" She asked, but Fianna didn't react at first. She expected the question to be directed at Robb and gasped when she realised it had been to her.

"Of course, yes," she hurriedly consented, allowing Catelyn to lock her elbow around Fianna's as they took off in the direction of a small stream nearby.

"How are you feeling, today? Honestly?" If anyone other than Catelyn had asked that question, Fianna would have gotten angry.

"Better than before, the nausea isn't making me upchuck all over the head of my horse so I'd call that an improvement," Fianna told her truthfully, the first time she had been honest when asked that question today.

Catelyn hummed, a small smile on her lips that made Fianna curious.

"Tell me," she started, looking out over the stream they were walking alongside of, "did your septa ever tell you about what a woman's body goes through during pregnancy?"

Fianna stopped in her step, accidentally jolting Cat to the side because of their locked elbows.

"No..." she answered tentatively.

"Has any woman ever told you?" Catelyn pried, Fianna's eyes were wide and her heart started to beat fast in her chest.

"Well- no. I've never spent much time in the company of one, I suppose."

"When I was pregnant with Robb I threw up my food almost every morning for the first few weeks," Catelyn told her, wistfully reminiscing back to the early days. When Ned had just set out to war and Catelyn could never have dreamed he left her something to remember him by.

"You don't think- we've only been married for a couple of weeks!" Fianna was starting to panic, Catelyn gripped onto her forearms trying to settle the young girl.

"Let me ask you this, have you had your moons blood ever since your wedding night?"

It was the question that made Fianna's body go into override. How could she have been so foolish? Her mind was so preoccupied with the possibility of having her father's illness, she never even considered the chance it was something far less sinister.

"No." Fianna replied after a moment of silence, her eyes wide and unfocused as she looked away from Catelyn's calm expression.

"Well, there you go," Catelyn actually let out a rare smile, one that hadn't appeared on her face since Arya had returned.

"But- I'm not ready! I'm too young!" She began to protest, shaking her head profusely as if there was much she could do at this stage.

"I was around your age when I fell pregnant with Robb, I could do it. So can you," Catelyn assured her, tightening her grip on the girls forearms to get her to focus on her words.

When that didn't work, Catelyn wrapped her arms around the slightly taller girl's frame, squeezing her tightly until she responded and wrapped her own arms around her good mother.

"You can do this, Fianna. Now go and tell my son that he is going to become a father."

Giving her good mother the widest, happiest smile Catelyn had ever seen on her face, a smile brighter than even the one she wore on her wedding day, she turned and sprinted off in the direction of camp, leaving Catelyn to slowly walk back by herself. A small smile of her own on her face.

* * *

 _Fianna_

When she reached their tent, she burst in just as it began to pour outside, her hair slightly dampened. Robb looked up from the map on the table just as she did, confused by her breathlessness and the wide grin on her face.

"What is it?" He asked confusedly, as she walked quickly over to him, her smile fading slightly when she took in the fact Edmure was in the room.

Pulling Robb to the side, she whispered to him so his uncle couldn't hear, "I have something to tell you, will you ask him to leave?"

"I can't, Fianna, I've sent someone to get Brynden and my mother to discuss some matters before we depart tomorrow. Can it wait?" He was willing to send them away for her, but she just smiled tightly in response and gave a soft nod of her head. She supposed the news could wait.

Catelyn entered the tent, wet tendrils slipping out of her braid from the conditions outside as the rain began to bear harder against the tent.

Edmure sat sulking at the table, not acknowledging the new presence of his sister and good niece. He didn't look up when Brynden entered either, only sat there with a perpetual look of sorrow on his face. He looked like a man being sent to his death, rather than being sent to marry a young bride.

Robb was in the middle of tucking Fianna's wet curls behind her ears, lifting a towel and patting at her face adoringly until it was dry when Brynden entered loudly.

"That rain will cost us another day," he announced as he appeared, looking like a man who had been swimming in the lake judging by how much water was dripping off of him.

Robb dropped the towel onto the top of the trunk and sat down in a chair, pulling Fianna to sit in his lap.

"Lord Frey will wait," Edmure said in a flat tone. "He knows we're coming."

"Lord Walder is prickly by nature," his words seemed to annoy Catelyn to the bone, disrupting her elated mood from learning of Fianna's condition.

"Prickly?" The Blackfish barked, "that what you call it? He might be the least pleasant man I ever met."

"Yes and that is why-" she started, but he only cut her off again.

"I've seen wet shits I've liked better than Walder Frey," he joked, Robb looked away awkwardly. He was not so eager to insult Lord Walder after finally striking a deal with him. Fianna had smirked in amusement, but Brynden took Robb's reaction as a sign he was trying to enforce respect in Fianna's presence. "Apologies, your grace! I've spent too many years around lancers and pikemen."

"I've spent the last two years burying my sword in the bellies of men and getting covered in their own blood," Fianna responded with a playful smirk, one arm wound around Robb's shoulders, "I'm not afraid of wet shits."

Robb allowed a low chuckle at this, while the Blackfish let out a full on laugh.

"We already delayed leaving by a day, Lord Frey will take this as a slight," Catelyn continued, ever the serious one.

"He can take it as he likes," Edmure replied gloomily, "he's getting the wedding he wanted."

"You're such a child, Edmure. You'd swear we were forcing you to marry Lord Walder himself," Fianna joked, eliciting another laugh from Brynden and a glare from Edmure.

"He's getting _a_ wedding, it was a King he wanted," Catelyn said before Edmure had a chance to reply to Fianna.

"Edmure is the best match a Frey has had in the history of their house," Robb called out, attempting to diffuse his mother. "We should all get some sleep."

The trio of Tullys left immediately, and when Robb wasn't looking Fianna and Catelyn shared a look. Catelyn smiled at her encouragingly, and it was all the motivation she needed to tell her husband as soon as possible.

When the tent emptied, Robb leaned in and began to press hot, open mouthed kisses on the side of her neck - knowing damn well it was her weakness.

"Robb," she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed and her lips lifting up in a smile as she leaned her head back onto his shoulder.

He didn't reply, moving his lips up to her jawline before reaching up and cupping her cheek to turn her head towards him, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Fianna knew what he wanted, and she wasn't about to deny him. The news would wait.

Robb slowly began to inch her shirt down her shoulders until her chest was blare, moving to fiddle with the laces of her breeches next. He never parted from this kiss once.

She lifted her body up from his lap so he could slip her breeches off of her legs, and when she was fully bare to him, he slipped his hands up, fondling with her breasts.

Fianna stood up then, gripping him by his shirt and dragging him up with her. When he was standing, she reattached their lips and encouraged him backwards, shoving him down fully when the back of his legs hit the bed.

Robb's body hit the bed with a creaking noise, and Fianna wasted no time until she crawled on top of him, hungrily starting to undress him.

When he was naked too, he flipped them around, causing Fianna to let out a small scream of surprise followed by a giggle. Now with him on top, he slipped his hand between her legs, expertly working her up before he would be able to insert himself into her. It was almost painful how much he wanted her at that moment, how much he wanted to _feel_ her.

After she had reached her high, he slid himself inside of her, their bodies entangled in the best possible way as her hips rose up to meet his with every thrust.

This time when she finished, it was along with him. The two letting out soft moans of pleasure, their kisses sloppy as they panted into each other's mouths.

He collapsed onto the bed beside her, catching his breath as he came down from his high. Fianna smiled breathlessly, feeling entirely content at that moment.

Robb slowly got up off of the bed, walking in all his naked glory over to his robe which he quickly shrugged on. Fianna didn't move, though, laying bare on the bed. Instead of getting up, she moved onto her side, propping her elbow up and resting her cheek against her hand as she watched her handsome husband.

"What is it with you and never wearing clothes? Do you want me to attack you again?" He smirked at her from his position mere feet away, causing her to smile so hard she had to bite her lip to calm down.

"I wouldn't mind the King in the North invading my land, that's all I'll say on that," she teased causing his eyes to widen at her words before he sputtered out a laugh, sitting down at the table.

"How am I supposed to go back to planning a war when you're sitting there talking about invading your land and looking like that," he smiled widely, causing her to smirk in return and drop her left eye in a wink.

"Then don't," she continued, causing him to groan, thoughts of taking her again filling his head.

"You have a raven by the way," he cleared his throat, trying to change the subject before he went straight back to bed, "it's from Tiernan, I think."

He held the scroll in the air to show her, but she made no move to get up to fetch it.

"I have much to tell him, but I don't know how much I can say by raven," she mused, causing him to look over curiously.

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Like..." here it comes, she thought, "I just won that bet we had made when I was ten."

"What was the bet?"

"That I would meet someone and start a family before he would..."

His head snapped up at this, his lips lifting in a smile, assuming she was joking.

"What now?" He asked stupidly, his eyebrows furrowing when he noticed her expression starting to fade from happiness to worry.

"It seems there's a... wolf-pup in the forest," she said nervously, swallowing hard when he stood up from his chair.

There was no hint of a smile on his face now as he asked "are you certain?"

"I mean, I think so," she stammered before clearing her throat determinedly, not prepared to let him be angry, "you don't get to be angry with me. This is what happens when people have sex, Robb."

Frustratedly, she sat up and reached over for her robe, whipping it up her arms and onto her body.

"Angry?" He asked in shock, his voice breaking slightly. He reached out to stop her from moving away, cupping his hands around her neck to force her to look at him.

"Fianna," he began, his face splitting into a smile, "you're my queen. You're the love of my life. You've brought me so much happiness and now you're bringing me even more joy."

Tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't believe she thought he'd be angry with her. Her emotions were heightened today and she could definitely cry if he was going to get sappy with her.

"Don't start, you're going to make me cry," she protested, looking away from him with an adorable pout on her lips that formed from her trying to resist the tears that were forming.

"A Stark and Bua baby, may the gods help the world," he joked, pressing a soft kiss on her pout.

"May the Gods help me if he or she is anything like you," she replied with a giggle, as he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Maybe it will be Stark and Bua _babies,_ " he suggested, preparing to comfort her should she start to cry at any moment.

"If you've given me two babies I'll have you executed," she replied with a laugh, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" He asked worriedly, catching them with his thumb. When he asked this, he opened the floodgates and she began to sob.

"I-I'm just so _bloody_ happy," she cried, feeling absolutely ridiculous and swatting Robb on the arm when he began to laugh.

"By the Gods, Fianna," he smiled, feeling emotional himself all of a sudden as he wrapped his arms around his pregnant wife and lifted her until her feet dangled, wrapping his arms around her waist then so they were at eye level.

"I love you," he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and then to the tip of her nose, and then to her lips. "I love you, I love you."

"I love you."

He laid her down on the bed then, leaving the war entirely for the night and focusing on her, and only her.

* * *

 **Things I did: THAT. I was hinting at Fianna's pregnancy since the last chapter but I don't think anyone picked up on it, so I pulled a sneaky one here. It's also why Black Walder says a month for the wedding to happen instead of two weeks, because I wanted to give Fianna's pregnancy a chance to develop. I was so excited to reveal that. I'm so soft for Fianna and Robb.**

 **QUESTION: Now that we've established a wedding is happening, and this will have no effect whatsoever on the story as I have it written already, but if Robb did die at the wedding and Fianna survived would you continue to read it anyway? It's not going to affect the story, I'm just interested to know if people read this for Robb or for Fianna! :)**

 **RHatch89 - maybe...maybe not... you'll soon see!**

 **reaganrose115- without giving too much away, you should be scared ahah x**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - she's a little toughie she'll make it through! I mean... if she makes it ;)**

 **jean d'arc - I actually never really thought of it that way and now**  
 **I'm feeling guilty about it! I will admit the Blackfish is being slightly hypocritical there and Robb too with saying he'd marry Fianna regardless of a betrothal, but you're right Fianna didn't have a right to jump on the bandwagon but I suppose her as a character is kind of prickly herself so I don't know if she would be nice to him either way!**

 **Guest- Sigh. I don't know what you define as a 'cop out'? I have a plan for this story and I've had it planned since the first chapter and that's what I'm going to write. If what I have planned, whether it's killing off Robb or not, makes this a shit story for you, then I'm sorry about that but frankly I'll literally write it how I want to write it and not just appeal to what people want ahah**

 **Guest- I knowwww! It's so daunting writing it I'm so nervous about posting it and what the reaction will be when I do!**


	25. (XXIV) Arry, Again

_Song: With or Without You by U2 (one last cheesy Fianna/Robb song?)_

 _Fianna_

Eerily, as the Twins loomed in their sight with Grey Wind and Chroi trotting ahead of the party, Chroi let out a lone howl into the cool air. It sent chills down Fianna's spine, and made her grip the reigns of her horse tighter.

They would only have to suffer through this ordeal for a few short days, she told herself over and over. Then they would make their move, with the Frey army at their back.

Robb looked over and smiled encouragingly at her as the gates were being rolled down to allow them entrance, they waited patiently. But Fianna was far from patient at that moment, only being able to force a half smile in response at Robb.

"Remember," Catelyn murmured to them, her horse coming up alongside of Robb's, "eat and drink when you get inside before discussing anything. The guest right will be invoked, and he cannot harm us."

Fianna and Robb nodded in agreement, fully intending to be under the guest right's protection before any wedding were to be held.

As they entered the stronghold, they dismounted their horses and walked slowly, close together, towards the great hall where they were being led.

Fianna felt itchy - eyes were fixed on the young King and Queen from all over the castle and were full of judgement and resentment.

They were led to the great hall, and the second Fianna laid eyes on the old Walder Frey, she was sure he would be the subject of a future nightmare. There wasn't a hint of kindness in his aged face, his expression didn't change when they entered nor did he greet them.

Fianna stood close to Robb, feeling entirely uncomfortable when she noticed the eyes of Walder Frey's sons, who were standing to the side, all fixed on her.

A servant approached them with a plate of bread and salt, the plate was then passed around to each of the guests - sealing them under the protection of the guest right.

"They wouldn't poison the salt, would they?" She whispered to Edmure under her breath, he only looked back to her with a dull expression showing he wouldn't be surprised if they did.

"You said that after I ate it on purpose didn't you?" Arya hissed under her breath at Fianna, only stopping because Catelyn shot her a deadly look.

"My honoured guests," Walder spoke finally as Fianna, albeit with some hesitation, dipped the bread in salt and popped it in her mouth, "be welcome within my walls and at my table."

The bread was passed around all of the Stark party and then to Walder himself, who continued, "I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the seven."

"We thank you for your hospitality, my lord," Robb called out to him. Fianna could hear the tone in his voice, he was so desperate for this to go successfully.

When Walder Frey didn't reply, only looked at him expectantly, Robb decided to begin to execute his terms of the agreement, "I have come to offer my apologies, my lord. And to beg your forgiveness. I was not aware of a previous betrothal, I can assure you."

Walder, much like his sons, didn't look like he believed that.

"Don't beg my forgiveness, your grace," he replied dryly, "it wasn't me you spurned, it was my girls."

His words implied that he wasn't accepting Robb's word that he was unaware of a betrothal, perhaps he didn't believe there was an original betrothal at all.

With his wrinkled, age-spotted hands, he weakly gestured for the Frey girls surrounding him to approach Robb and stand in line.

They weren't all as bad as the rumours, Fianna noted. She imagined most of them would be quite pretty if they were cleaned up, they all looked dirty instead of ugly, which was probably why many said they were. The look of misery on their faces can't have helped matters.

Edmure looked eagerly at each of them, wondering which one was to be his bride, wondering which one was the prettiest.

"They're not that bad," Fianna whispered under her breath to him, but he didn't seem so sure.

"One of them was supposed to be Queen," Lord Walder called out mockingly, "now none of them are."

He began to call out the names of each individual girl, all of their which were rather peculiar, but Fianna was the first of her name in the seven kingdoms so she couldn't judge.

When he got to his twin granddaughters, he crudely suggested that Robb could have chosen both if it pleased him. Edmure shook his head in disgust, they were mere children. This creature was the man that would soon become his good father.

An awkward moment occurred where Walder couldn't remember the name of the second last girl, throwing out suggestions such as "Walda and Waldina." The girl embarrassingly replied her name was 'Marie' and Fianna and Arya immediately covered their mouths to hide their amusement. How could he have mixed her name up so much?

"And here's my youngest daughter," he reached the smallest and youngest finally, "Shiree. Though she hasn't bled yet, clearly you don't have the patience for all that."

Fianna's hands balled into fists at her side at this and Robb's jaw clenched in disgust, the girl was a child, younger than Arya.

"None of them were named Roslyn," Edmure commented to Fianna in confusion, was she so hideous she couldn't even be on display?

"My ladies," Robb replied after a silent moment, "all men should keep their word. Kings, most of all. I was pledged to marry one of you and I broke that vow. The fault is not with you. And any man would be lucky to have any one of you. I did what I did not to slight you, but because I discovered I was already betrothed to another, by the wishes of my late father. I know these words cannot set right the wrong I have done to you, and your house. I beg your forgiveness and pledge to do all I can to make amends so the Freys of the crossing and the Starks of Winterfell may once again be friends."

Walder smirked in amusement, sarcastically lifting his hands and giving Robb a slow clap. The more he spoke, the less Fianna trusted him and the more she wanted to leave this godforsaken castle.

"Very good," he answered, and with almost hungry eyes, he turned his sights to Fianna. "There she is. Come closer, let me have a look at you."

Fianna reluctantly moved forward, leaving the safety of Robb's side as she took three steps forward. Robb's grip tightened on the hilt his sword as he noted Walder's expression.

"Still can't see you!" He called, leaning forward for emphasis. "Old eyes."

He thought himself a funny man, to be certain.

Fianna's nose wrinkled and she looked back to Robb for approval, he stiffly nodded his head to her to encourage her to move. At that moment she wanted to do anything but, the nausea she experienced in the mornings had started to decrease as her pregnancy progressed but she could feel that bit of bread about to come back up and it had nothing to do with the babe inside of her.

She took multiple steps forward this time until she was close to the steps leading to Walder's seat, respectfully she bowed to him, and tried to ignore the beady eyes of his sons who were practically licking their lips for the young queen.

Lord Walder took one glance over her body, her eyes meeting his defiantly and refusing to be intimidated. She was a Queen. She could do this. He leaned back in his seat and smiled again.

"Love. That's what the Starks of Winterfell call it, eh?" He chuckled and everyone bristled. "Very honourable! I call it a pretty face, mhm, very pretty."

"Thank you, my lord," Fianna politely replied, grinding her teeth to hide her disgust.

"Prettier than this lot that's for sure, very shapely as well! Did you think you were hiding her under that armour? If you wanted to hide her, you shouldn't have brought her here at all."

Robb was beginning to agree. He really shouldn't have brought Fianna here, especially with her current condition.

"I can always see what's going on beneath a woman's clothes," he leaned in to look at her closer, "or in the Queen's case, a suit of armour. Been at this a long time. I bet when you take that breastplate off, everything stays right where it is. Doesn't drop an inch."

Robb inhaled deeply to calm himself, while Brynden himself was beginning to feel protective of his great niece, the two wanting to cover her from his stare.

"Your husband tells me he betrayed me for love, my queen," he addresses her directly, and Fianna shook her head.

"A previous betrothal, my lord."

"One that neither you nor him were aware of? I find that funny. I say he betrayed me for firm tits and a tight fit," he smiled smugly, knowing it was going to cause a reaction.

Robb opened his mouth to speak and moved to step forward, he was ready to drag Fianna back behind him and bury his sword into Lord Walder's belly. But Catelyn, knowing her son would react, swiftly threw her arm out to stop him.

"And I can respect that! I've heard the rumours about three generations of Bua girls now, each one as pretty as the last. Very fertile too, from what I hear." The way his eyes were fixed on Fianna when he said it, she was almost sure he knew. But there was no possible way he could have, unless Robb had told anyone. "I happen to be quite the same, as you can tell." He lifted his arms and gestured to his many offspring.

"When I was your age," he continued, "I'd have broken fifty oaths to get into that without a second thought. Well I've enough room in the hall for you lot, we'll set up tents outside for the rest of your men with food and ale."

Fianna quickly returned to Robb's side and immediately he reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly and she knew at that moment that he was angry.

"Thank you, my lord," he practically spat out, his teeth ground together.

"Now, the little princess," he beckoned towards Arya and Fianna automatically stood in front of her, blocking her from his gaze. Noting the stiff reactions from each of the guests, he continued, "she's betrothed to my boy, is she not?"

Robb, Catelyn and Fianna's hearts stopped automatically. They were so preoccupied with Edmure's betrothal, they never considered that the betrothal between Arya and Walder's son would still be in place from the original agreement.

"That was part of the original agreement, my lord," Catelyn broke her silence, her knuckles were white from squeezing her hands together so hard.

"What's he talking about?" Arya murmured in a panicked tone to Fianna, who could only look to her with sad eyes in response.

"So, I just gave you my armies the first time to fight for months for nothing then?" He was a bitter man, she thought, that he would use this against them as further penance for the broken betrothal.

"With respect, my lord, Arya is but a child. The original agreement has been broken, and therefore her betrothal as well," Robb spoke out, his grip squeezing on Fianna's hand.

Arya's face had gone white, she had been entirely unaware of the agreement and they had originally been so preoccupied with the war and getting her back, they never considered what would happen if she were returned to them.

"Fond of breaking betrothals are you, your grace?" Walder asked in a harsher voice, growing increasingly irritated by each passing moment.

"She's just a child," Fianna's voice cut through, staring directly at him with a look of disgust and hatred.

"I can allow that betrothal to wait until she's older. We have enough of a wedding now to plan," not giving them a chance to reply to that, Lord Walder stood and clapped his hands once.

"Well let's get ready, the wine will flow red and the music will play loud and we'll put this mess behind us."

Fianna didn't know if it was his tone or his demeanour, or the eerie feeling she felt creep up her spine. But she doubted very much that Lord Walder was about to put this behind him.

* * *

They walked silently as they were led toward the chambers assigned to each of them. Arya was distant, and by the set of her lip and the fierceness of her gaze she was absolutely rife with anger. Understandably.

So when the servant had pointed out each room Arya, Catelyn and Robb and Fianna together were staying in, which was all close together, they trio piled into Arya's room following after her.

"I can't believe you've done this!" She erupted after they shut the door, she was practically seething with anger and it wasn't hard to understand why.

"Arya, we had no choice at the time-" Catelyn tried to soothe her, approaching her youngest daughter carefully.

"No choice?! Just like Robb had 'no choice' but to marry Fianna?!" She was yelling now, the most emotion they had seen from her since her return. "Edmure has to suffer because of your mistakes, but I won't be forced to marry a Frey just because you want to win a war!"

"To _avenge_ our father!" Robb retorted, his voice getting louder too.

"If you wanted to avenge our father you would have attacked King's Landing already, Sansa is still there and you're doing _nothing_!"

"Arya," Fianna spoke in a calm voice, guilt rushing through her even though she wasn't the one to agree to the deal, "I won't let him marry you off to his son. He said he's willing to give it time, we can work something out before then-"

"Did you know about this?" Arya asked in a hollow voice, looking at her with eyes full of distrust.

"I..." Fianna began, sighing before admitting, "I forgot. I honestly did, I would never have let you come here with us if I remembered."

Arya shook her head, looking absolutely crushed with betrayal.

"Get out."

"Arya, I'll fix this I will-" Robb started but was immediately cut off by Arya letting out a shout.

" _GET OUT!_ " Robb jumped at how loud her voice was and nodded his head grimly, turning and leaving the room and taking Fianna with him. Catelyn stayed, desperate to comfort her daughter but she received the same response.

There, in the hallway outside of her room, they stood silently, absolutely ashamed.

"She won't marry the Frey boy," Catelyn swallowed hard.

"She shouldn't have to," Fianna replied softly, Arya and Fianna were as close as sisters and she felt every bit as guilty.

"I won't let her, I've ruined Edmure's life. I can't ruin hers too," Robb spoke sadly before turning and going towards their assigned chambers, to wallow in guilt.

* * *

 _Arya_

She was so angry she was close to tears. The second she arrived at the Twins, Arya's intuitions were begging her to turn around and leave again. She wish she had listened.

Arya almost wished she had never met Fianna at Harrenhal, she missed her mother and brother dearly but returning to them only set in stone a betrothal she never thought she'd be forced into. Much less by her King brother.

She never wanted to marry, all she wanted to do was be a warrior. Her father had told her that one day she would be wed to a Lord, the thought of it had made her nauseous. The thought of marrying a measly Frey boy, made her homicidal.

A knock sounded against her door, which she promptly ignored. It was either Robb, her mother or Fianna and she didn't wish to talk to any of them at the moment.

Despite the fact Arya had ignored the knock, the door opened anyway and in entered Fianna, a remorseful look on her face.

"Go away," Arya immediately warned, seated at the window seat she stared out at the Stark camp, who were settling in.

"No," Fianna refused, much to her annoyance. Arya's head whipped around to glare at her good sister.

"I said, go away," she spoke again, but Fianna only approached her and sat on next to her on the window seat. "You must be deaf."

"I must be," Fianna conceded, smiling softly.

"If you're here to convince me-"

"No, I'm not here to do that. I'm here to see if you're okay," Fianna moved to place her hand on Arya's arm, but the younger girl quickly shrugged out of her reach.

"I'm fine, now piss off," Fianna sighed, running a hand through her long hair in frustration. Arya began to study her then when she was sure Fianna was looking out the window. Sansa would love her, she thought.

Arya always thought Fianna was alike with herself, being a sword-wielding warrior. But she could see now that she was a lot like Sansa too, with long, shiny hair and a pretty face. Fianna even changed into a dress for the wedding, one that her sister would die to even touch. From the waist up, it was skin-coloured and covered in red lacy flowers, from the waist down, fell folds of red silk that _swished_ when she walked. Even the very crown on her head looked as rich as Joffrey's because it was on _her_ head, Sansa would love her indeed.

"I'm not going to the wedding," she told Fianna stubbornly.

"Why? It's for Edmure, he'll consider it an insult if you don't attend."

"No he won't, he'll be jealous and wish he could skip it himself," Arya muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. "I have a... feeling."

"A feeling?" Fianna looked to her with scrunched eyebrows.

"I have a bad feeling about this place, and the last time I had this feeling I watched my father get beheaded five minutes later," Fianna's heart clenched at her words, she felt the exact same.

"I know, me too," she replied in a quiet voice.

Looking back out the window, Arya noticed another party of guests arriving.

"Roose Bolton just arrived," she commented, causing Fianna to roll her eyes.

"Well now I feel even worse," she drily laughed, causing Arya to look at her this time.

"What do you mean?"

Fianna bit her lip, debating on telling her. Surely Arya would keep it secret? The girl was wise beyond her years and she herself had a bad feeling about their stay at the Twins.

"I got a raven from Tiernan, my cousin, a couple of months ago, after he and Ramsay Bolton went to Winterfell," she began, lifting her dress so she could rest her legs on the window seat.

"What did it say?" She asked curiously.

"That.. we shouldn't trust the flayed man," she told her seriously, her eyes looked troubled by this.

"The flayed man as in the Bolton's," Arya realised, blinking rapidly in surprise. "But they're Robb's banner men, and Roose is Robb's right hand man."

"Exactly, if he was to betray us he would know exactly how to hit close to home."

Arya's niggling feeling only grew at this, looking back out the window ominously.

"Are you going to tell Robb?"

"I don't know. If it comes out that Roose isn't a traitor, he'll assume that Tiernan is."

"So you're only protecting your cousin?" Arya asked defensively.

"Well my baby will be born a Stark, we're running out of Bua family members here," Fianna forced a laugh, and it took Arya a few seconds to truly hear what she just said. When she did, she whipped around, her mouth and eyes wide open in shock.

"You're pregnant?" She whispered in shock.

"Yes," she nodded, and despite the eery feeling in the air and the tension between the two, Fianna couldn't help but let out an uncontrollable smile.

"I'm going to be an aunt..." Arya found herself smiling too, and with tears welling in the older girl's eyes, Fianna leaned in and wrapped her arms around Arya tightly.

"I'll get you out of this, don't worry."

* * *

Arya was still seated in that same position when her mother and brother burst in later on.

"What do you mean you're not going to the wedding?" Robb asked immediately, to which Arya rolled her eyes at.

"I'm not going to that stupid wedding."

"Arya, the Freys will take this as a slight if you don't go," Catelyn warned her, considerably more calm than her son.

"I don't _care_ what the damned Freys think!" Arya got up from her seat, her talk with Fianna had soothed her somewhat but now she was angry all over again.

"Do you not care about this war, is that it?" Robb asked furiously.

"No! I don't give a damn about this war! You and Joffrey and Stannis are running about like _you're_ the children, not me! I don't care about it I just want to go home!" She bellowed.

"We won't _have_ a home to go home to if we don't win this war, Arya!"

"Robb," Catelyn placed her hand on Robb's arm in an attempt to calm him, but he barely noticed.

"And who's fault is that?! I don't feel _safe_ here, I'm staying in my room!"

"Arya, please," Catelyn stepped toward her, her eyes wide pleadingly. "Just come to the ceremony, you don't have to attend the feast afterward."

"I would have attended the ceremony if you hadn't sold me off like a sheep," she replied, her eyes deadly. She didn't look like a little girl then, she looked like a grown woman.

"What do you mean you don't feel safe here, we've made an alliance with the Freys you're safer here than on the road," Robb ignored her mention of the betrothal.

"You're so blind, Robb, you can't even see that the only people you can trust here is your family, you're a fool."

"A fool?!" He erupted suddenly, his anger matching hers, brother against sister. "How am I a fool just because you have a bad feeling?"

"I'm not the only one who doesn't trust your _friends_!" She practically spat the word.

"Who else doesn't then? Pray, tell me," he begged sarcastically.

"Your own wife doesn't even trust them!"

This gave him pause, he knew Fianna was weary here but what had she been telling Arya?

"She clearly mustn't trust you either, seeing as she hasn't told you that Roose Bolton is a traitor."

Arya knew why Fianna didn't tell Robb, but at that moment all she wanted to do was hurt him like he had hurt her.

At that moment, with perfect timing, Fianna entered the room.

"What is going on in here? You can hear the shouting all around the Twins," she spoke in a hushed voice.

"What does she mean by 'you haven't told me Roose is a traitor'?" He turned slowly to face her, the second look of betrayal she received today.

Fianna paled at his words, her eyes darting back and forth between him and Arya.

"I- I was going to tell you, I'm just not sure-"

"Tell me what?" His tone was much darker than when he spoke to Arya, and so much more frightening. Fianna swallowed before answering, blinking quickly.

"I got a raven from Tiernan after he went to Winterfell-"

"By the _gods_ Fianna! That was months ago!"

"I know. All it said was that we shouldn't trust the flayed man."

"And you didn't think to tell me that my most trusted advisor might be a traitor?" He asked with narrowed eyes.

"I didn't want to get Tiernan in trouble.. Ramsay Bolton's army is so much larger than his if he invaded Baelfort, we couldn't take another-"

"It's like you don't _want_ me to trust you. Every time I think I can, you give me a reason to think I shouldn't."

"Robb.." she whispered, her eyes prickling as he stormed past her with such speed her hair flicked slightly with the breeze.

Fianna cast her gaze down as Catelyn left too, unable to meet her good mother's eyes. When she looked up and saw Arya looking right at her, the younger girl suddenly felt bad. She should have pushed Fianna to tell Robb herself, she was just so consumed with anger at him she was using anything she could throw at him.

Fianna shook her head in disappointment at Arya before leaving the room too, guilt ravaging both girls.

* * *

While the wedding was about to begin, Arya snuck downstairs, making sure to stay out of sight of Fianna and Robb as she fetched Chroi and Grey Wind.

Lord Walder had insisted that those "beasts" were to be kept away, shoved into wooden pens with bars for "his safety".

Robb had obliged, Fianna wasn't happy at all. But at Robb's hand, she agreed. Arya had watched from the window earlier as Fianna sadly locked away her most trusted companion.

Sneaking up to the pens, Arya unlocked the latches on both pens and freed the direwolf and wolfhound, clicking her tongue and patting her leg for them to follow her.

She wished so much in that moment that Nymeria was with them and that she didn't have to force her to leave before, but she knew that was the right thing to do at the time.

Arya led the two animals to her chambers and when they followed her in, she swiftly shut the door. Instantly, she felt safer knowing they were there and able to protect her.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror when she closed and locked the door, and slowly approached the reflective surface.

Her hair had grown longer now, as long as it was when she first went to King's Landing. Her mother had pushed her to grow it to try to force some form of femininity onto her.

She wished she hadn't listened. More than ever, she wished she was Arry. Then the Freys wouldn't want her to marry one of their own. She longed for her old short hair, dirtied appearance and breeches. Even more than all of that, she longed for Gendry and Hot Pie. Arya was so preoccupied with being reunited with her mother she didn't have time to think about them too much. But now she wished they were here, Gendry in particular. He would tease her about the Frey boy, but make her laugh none the less.

In a daze, half sad and half frustrated, she crossed the room and lifted needle into her hand before returning to the mirror and raising it up.

Arya clutched onto half of her hair and began to saw at it. Needle wasn't the sharpest of blades so it didn't cut easily, but eventually the hair began to fall from her head as she chopped at it. She accidentally nicked the side of her head with the blade and let out a grunt of pain as the hair dropped around her shoulders and feet.

When she was done, she was left with hair unevenly and shortly chopped. With the breeches and shirt she already had on, she looked like a boy again. Desperate to further the appearance, she opened the window swiftly and reached her hand out, rubbing it against the stone wall until it was black with dirt and mud. Then, she rubbed it all around her face.

With eyes watering and hands shaking, Arya looked back into the mirror and immediately felt safe again. Now the Frey boy wouldn't want her, no boy would want her because she looked like a boy herself.

* * *

 **SO THIS IS IT. THE NEXT CHAPTER IS THEEEEE CHAPTER. I could have put it into this chapter, but seeing as this one is over 5000 words already, I'd rather put Edmure's wedding and feast into one. I really needed this chapter too as a precursor to the next one, Arya hasn't been featured much since she returned to Riverrun and she wasn't with the Starks in the canon red wedding so whether she escapes and lives or dies will also have to be considered and I don't want to rush this. By the way, Fianna's dress for the wedding if any of you watch Reign is the red dress Mary wore, just google 'mary reign red dress' and its the first dress in google images, a red dress for a red wedding of course.**

 **Shannan- Now more than ever I'm excited for everyone to read the next chapter. I love your theories and I always have and it was great to hear your opinion on it, without giving too much away, I will say that whatever happens at the wedding, the story will still be a bit AU from the canon. Some events will stay the same, some will change. You will definitely know in the next chapter what direction I'm taking it in and I hope to god you like it!**

 **Guest(1) - I absolutely love Robb's character I have to agree with you, and Richard Madden is an absolute angel himself. With that said, I will say that no matter what (if she survives that is) Fianna isn't going to end up with Jon. This is a Robb/OC story and I intend to honour that completely. I have this planned to the absolute end and I know you're all probably distrustful of what I'm about to do, but I hope you all will like it anyway because I think it's a new direction for a GoT story that hasn't been approached yet. And oh my godddddd Robb's death and the mutilation of his body made me CRY. Especially that shot in the show of Arya waking up and seeing his body and a wolf's head being carted about it's absolutely traumatising. Can't wait for you to read the next chapter I hope you like this one and the next x**

 **RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond- That is so incredibly sweet and flattering to me that you'd continue to read my OC if Robb died! It's the next chapter now where you'll know for sure what's going to happen in this book and I reallllly hope you like it! (Well as much as you can like it, we can all establish its going to be a brutal chapter)**

 **S- that's perfectly fine if you'd stop reading it, it was simply a question to ask people because I was interested to hear their responses.**

 **Guest(2) - Thank you so so much and thank you for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter!**

 **Sucuri- That's sooo incredibly flattering to hear, it really makes me feel like I wrote a strong character if you'd read it with or without Robb. Thank you so much!**

 **Qwind - Just one more chapter and you'll get to see what happens! Thank you! I absolutely love the Blackfish he's a bloody legend**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - it's totally okay if you were to stop reading if Robb died! I myself would struggle to continue a story if the character I started reading it for died, whatever happens I can promise you from here on out it WILL be different to the show, whether he lives or dies. I can't wait for you to see what happens next!**

 **RHatch89 - thank you! I hope you like what direction Robb and Fianna go when it happens!**

 **Guest(3) - no promises! His death absolutely destroyed me on the show I still cry over the red wedding!**

 **Guest(4) - I completely agree. Robb was done so dirty and then changing Jeyne Westerling to Talisa didn't even help. That's why I wanted to write this story to develop Robb more as a character, especially since he's so forgotten about now a few seasons later. Thank you for thinking that Fianna is an amazing character! I hope you will like the direction I take it in but of course if you don't and didn't want to read it I would totally understand that too x**

 **reaganrose115- THE NEXT CHAPTER, ITS GOING DOWN. IM YELLING TIMBER.**

 **jean d'arc - I can't make any promises, unfortunately! But I can promise that this red wedding will go down slightly different to the one in the show/book**

 **Guest(5) - my heart, I've spent so many nights reading until my eyes were blurry and to know someone is doing that to my story… AGH. I really hope you're enjoying it, whenever you get to read to this chapter and see this!**


	26. (XXV) I Would Die For You

**EDITED: This chapter has been slightly edited, one aspect of the ending has been modified a little so this chapter no longer requires a trigger warning.**

 _Song: Wars of Faith by Audiomachine_

 _Fianna_

The tension in the group was palpable as they gathered in the sept for the wedding ceremony, the ceremony itself would be entirely foreign to Fianna, who had never attended a wedding under the New Gods before. As Edmure and his bride worshipped the seven, their wedding would be carried out accordingly - Fianna and Robb worshipped the Old Gods.

Catelyn stood next to Robb with a troubled expression, mulling over the argument with Arya. She always knew that Arya would be wed eventually, she was the daughter of a high born family and now a Princess of the North. But the guilt she felt for failing to even remember a betrothal she herself had set up for her, was overwhelming.

Fianna stood on the other side of Robb, with the Blackfish next to her. She joked often with her great good-uncle, the two pondering what this Roslyn Frey would look like and remarking on the fearful look on Edmure's face.

Robb and Fianna hadn't spoken since he found out about the letter, although she did try in the hour since, but he was adamant. He was absolutely furious with her and to him it felt like a betrayal.

Edmure took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment when Walder began to walk down the centre aisle with Roslyn, her face was covered with a long, white veil as was customary. He wouldn't be able to see her just yet.

Robb turned back to look at the approaching bride, only to find the eyes of Roose Bolton meeting him. There was a tense moment where Roose didn't turn away, staring at Robb with an unreadable expression before finally looking to Roslyn as well.

Robb wondered in that moment what he was to do about the situation. Whether she withheld the letter or not, it still existed and it's words hung heavy over his head. Perhaps after the wedding he would send Roose back to Harrenhal and appoint a new right hand man, perhaps he should keep him close to watch him carefully. But that was to be decided tomorrow, or later. For now, the wedding came first.

Walder threw Robb a look before he reached Edmure, raising an eyebrow at him and assuming Robb was eager to see the girl he could have potentially married. Although Roslyn Frey's attractiveness was the last thing on his mind at the moment.

Fianna waited with a bated breath as Lord Walder turned to his daughter and carefully lifted the veil from her face. Roslyn's back was to the crowd, and she felt as eager as Edmure, leaning to the side to get a glance.

Edmure's fearful expression fell instantly, in shock or relief she was unsure.

Roslyn got down on her knees, a shake to her body and a quiver to her voice as she began to speak, "Lord Edmure, I hope I'm not a disappointment to you."

Edmure let out a breath of relief before reaching down and gently wrapping his hands around her elbows, encouraging her to stand. When she did, the crowd finally got to see her face as she stood to the side to face her new husband.

"You're a delight to me, my lady," he replied to her, happiness coating his voice and expression.

"That dog," Brynden chuckled under his breath, and Fianna gave him a small smile in response. In truth, she was overcome with anxiety. The events of the day had Fianna on edge and with Robb refusing to speak with her, Fianna panicked internally that he secretly wished he had married Roslyn instead.

Roslyn was a looker, there was no doubt about it. She looked the most unlike the Freys, with a small nose where theirs was characteristically big, and a sweet, innocent face. She held herself in a nervous, polite manner that would surely appeal to most men.

As Edmure began to cloak his bride and bring her under his protection, Roslyn looked towards Robb and he met her gaze, heartbreakingly so.

Fianna looked down to her feet, unable to watch any more. She almost wished the girl was hideous and unsightly, so as to qualm her worries. She banished the thought as soon it came.

She jumped at the sensation of a hand slipping into hers, and looked up to Robb in confusion.

"I wonder does he take it as a slight," Robb whispered to her, meeting her gaze with a softer expression than before.

"What?" She asked in confusion, watching as Robb's gaze dropped down her body before back up to her face.

"That the girl I brought to the wedding looks better than the bride," his mouth lifted into a smirk, and Fianna let out a sigh of relief. She knew she wouldn't be pretty for much longer, when her body would change along with her pregnancy and her belly would swell more. Now it was the smallest of bumps, looking like she ate a large dinner.

Fianna smiled gratefully at him, her heart swelling with the love she felt for her husband, as she lifted her free hand up and squeezed his arm, their hands still conjoined.

Edmure looked to his family with wide eyes, as if to say 'wow'. Catelyn raised her eyebrows in response, Fianna grinned encouragingly and Brynden rolled his eyes.

The septon bound their hands together with a string, and Roslyn and Edmure began to speak the words that would seal their houses together.

There was a beauty to this religion, particularly to the marriage ceremonies, Fianna thought. But then again she supposed that her marriage to Robb was magical in itself, regardless of religion.

Brynden momentarily looked behind him to see a number of women giving him looks, smirks on their faces as they shyly waved. He immediately turned back around, eyes widened after seeing that image.

"I think the Frey women have it out for me," he murmured to Fianna, causing her to bite her cheeks to hide her amusement.

"It's about time you'd marry, you big virgin," she teased in response, causing him to look to her with a disgusted face.

"Who said I was-"

"That's enough, Brynden," Robb cut him off before he could finish that sentence.

As the crowd slowly began to trail out of the sept after the ceremony had finished and towards the dining hall, Fianna and Robb were the last to leave before she tugged him back by the hand.

"Can we talk?" She asked quietly, almost nervous but thankfully he nodded his head in agreement.

They stood waiting for the place to empty out before they were left alone, an awkward silence falling over them.

"I can't believe Arya didn't come at all," she commented after clearing her throat.

"Yeah, she was mad though, so..." he replied, nodding his head and looking away from her.

"I'm sorry..." Fianna told him sincerely, her hand cupping his cheek and forcing him to meet her eyes.

"I know. I just don't understand why you would keep that from me," he told her, his posture slightly stiff.

"I was scared, I knew you wouldn't believe me so I wanted to wait until I had proof to bring it to you."

"I'm your husband Fianna, I would have believed you," his words caused her to raise her eyebrows at him and smile softly.

"You're a stubborn northerner with a pie for brains, no you wouldn't have," she retorted sarcastically, which he rolled his eyes at but laughed anyway, draping his arm around her shoulders.

"Come, before they wonder where we are. We'll figure out what to do with Roose after this is over, okay?" He used his arm around her to lead her towards the door and into the night air, but she stopped in her step again to lean up, tug his cheek to the side and press her lips to his.

"I love you," she told him, her voice fierce with honesty.

"I love you too."

She wasn't sure why, but Fianna felt the need to tell him that then. They said it to each other multiple times a day, but there was something more sincere about this moment.

* * *

Robb watched, sipping from his cup of wine, as Fianna laughed loudly with glee. She was dancing with Brynden, who had been brooding in the corner enjoying the flow of wine until Fianna had approached him, forcing him to dance.

Robb was shocked when he agreed, probably only because he was slightly tipsy and because Fianna was extremely persuasive. Instead of dancing properly, he spun her around wildly until her head was dizzy and her hair was a mess.

The feasts were well underway, the sound of music and laughter filling the air as they all enjoyed a brief respite from war and politics.

Robb let out a loud laugh when Brynden gathered Fianna in his arms and dipped her down low, her squealing in shock and then proceeding to bat at his arms playfully until he stood her upright.

Ser Mick approached his lady then, she wasn't a Bua any longer but he had sworn to protect the heir to Baelfort and her marriage did not change that. He was a father figure in her life now and genuinely cared for the girl.

"Mind if I cut in for a dance with the Queen?" He asked Brynden who sighed in relief, gently nudging her towards him.

"Thank the gods, I'm off for a piss," he groaned before stalking off towards the cup of wine he had left next to Catelyn to finish it before he departed.

Before he could leave, Catelyn beckoned him to lean in so he could hear her over the music.

"He complained about this marriage the entire ride from Riverrun, now look at him!" She pointed out, nodding her head towards Edmure who sat next to his lady at the top table, laughing all the while.

"The god's love to reward a fool," Brynden replied with a smirk.

"Uncle!" She scolded, smiling none the less. Brynden noticed she looked more like Cat, the small child who used to play without a care in the world, than Lady Catelyn, a scorned widow.

"What?" He retorted, raising his eyebrows, "he's my nephew. I love him. _And_ he's a damned fool."

Catelyn, to her dismay, was sat next to Roose Bolton. She didn't miss the way he covered his cup to prevent a serving girl from pouring wine into it. Nor did she forget the words Fianna told them. She wasn't surprised, in truth, that he could possibly be a traitor. The man was self-absorbed at best, with eyes that held an evil she had never known to look into. A sly, cunningness that reminded her somewhat of Petyr Baelish.

"Don't you drink, Lord Bolton?" She asked curiously.

"Never do, my lady. Dulls the senses."

"That's the point," Brynden drily commented.

 _Gods._ He was a rather dull man none the less, Catelyn thought.

"Didn't you marry a Frey girl yourself?" Brynden asked after remembering a rumour he had heard a few weeks before.

"Aye, Lord Walder let me choose any of his granddaughters," Catelyn raised her eyebrows at this, "he promised me the girls weight in silver as a dowry. So I have a fat young bride!"

She supposed he intended it as a joke, but she felt nothing short of disgusted and even sympathetic towards the girl who was twice cursed with Walder Frey as a grandfather and Roose Bolton as a husband.

"I hope she makes you very happy," she replied politely, masking her discomfort.

"Well she's made me very rich," he told her smugly, and she couldn't reply to that.

Brynden finally downed the remnants of his wine before taking off out of the hall with the intentions of finding a tree or pot to piss in, leaving his niece alone with Roose.

Fianna was growing tired from the dancing. Pregnancy, she discovered, was beginning to make her wake up later and go to sleep earlier. But this particular day had been long and tiring.

"Excuse me, Ser," she excused herself to Mick, who nodded politely, "I have to go accompany that King of mine."

Fianna approached Robb with a small smile, which he responded to with one of his own. He reached over and pushed the chair she was about to sit in out for her and when she sat, he moved his hand to hold hers.

"You look tired," he noticed, she sarcastically rolled her eyes at this.

"Thanks," she responded drily, gently nipping him on his arm.

Robb nodded with his head towards the table across from them, which sat his mother and Roose Bolton alone.

"I don't trust my mother alone with him," he remarked, eyeing the older man carefully. "Perhaps I should go and get her."

Fianna tugged on his arm to keep him in place and gave him a stern look, "your mother doesn't need protecting. She's aware of what's going on. You don't want to make a scene here, we agreed to deal with him tomorrow."

Robb nodded, worry still etched on his features. He decided to let it go for that moment and enjoy the festivities as he said he would.

"Perhaps you don't want me to save her," he joked, giving her a playful smirk, "I thought you two were getting along now?"

"I wonder does she regret sending me away now, knowing that I'm giving her a grandchild," she pondered, nibbling her lower lip. Robb found his gaze trailing over her face, admiring her features.

"Maybe she wants a Frey grandchild instead," he murmured, looking towards Roslyn and Edmure as his new good-aunt fed Edmure fruit as if he were a child. Robb rubbed his hands over his face dramatically, looking to Fianna with wide eyes, "I've made a terrible mistake!"

Fianna let out an offended gasp, lifting her leg to kick out at Robb but he caught her by the knee skilfully, using his hold to drag her chair closer to his until their faces were close.

"It's treason to hit your King," he told her, for perhaps the millionth time.

"And treason to hurt your Queen," she replied back smartly, Robb's hand tightening on her knee as he began to lean in to press a kiss to her mouth.

Fianna stopped him quickly, putting her hand over his mouth, "not here, later on?"

She smirked as she spoke, raising her eyebrows to insinuate to him that what would happen later would be too inappropriate to say in the presence of company, his cheeks flushed in response from excitement.

"Your grace!" Lord Frey calls out suddenly, no doubt watching the interactions between King and Queen. Robb and Fianna pushed away from each other respectfully.

All those who were seated in the room began to pound their fists on the table excitedly, knowing what was coming.

"The septon has prayed his prayers, some words were said and Lord Edmure has wrapped my daughter in a cloak," his sarcastic words caused a chorus of laughs from the Frey party attending. "But they are not yet man and wife. A sword needs a sheath," he began, causing everyone in the room to laugh except Fianna, Catelyn and Robb, the latter two sharing a look of disgust, "and a wedding needs a bedding! What does my sire say?"

Everyone began to pound their cups on the table, not caring for the spillage of wine it caused as they shouted out a chant of " _TO BED! TO BED! TO BED!"_

Robb shut them all up by merely standing up, taking a few steps to approach the top table.

"If you think the time is right, Lord Walder, by all means, let us bed them," he consented. Fianna _hated_ this part. It was degrading, cruel and Fianna thanked the gods every day she didn't have to be put through it.

She was forced to sit and watch as Roslyn was lifted into the air and carried off, her clothes being stripped by the hands holding her as her husband was bounded on by the women, dragging him along behind her.

As the chanting continued, Robb began to clap encouragingly along with it, forcing Fianna to smack him harshly on the arm.

"Ouch!" He complained, whirling around to see her.

"Don't clap!" She hissed at him, fixing him with a glare.

"It's tradition!" He smiled brightly at her, causing her to roll her eyes.

"Whatever you say, my king," she stood up and gripped onto his hand, beginning to walk backwards, half dragging him, to the open space used for dancing. "Dance with me?"

"I'm not a dancer," he moaned, but she didn't listen, standing in position and curtseying to him as the next song began to play.

Robb nodded his head in response as Fianna rose, lifting her hand up to hover in front of his. They began to turn, their hands not allowed to touch and their eyes not allowed to break from their gaze as they carried out the steps they'd been taught since childhood.

Finally, they were able to touch. Their eyes never drawing away from each other's, Robb placed one hand on her hip and lifted her other hand into the air, stepping around with her across the dance floor and occasionally twirling her.

"You're starting to show," he murmured to her quietly, so only they could hear. Briefly, he lifted his gaze from hers to look pointedly down at her belly.

"Well, he or she has a big head. Much like their father," she teased, raising her eyebrows as Robb lifted their conjoined hands high and twirled her again.

When she was turned around to face him, instead of continuing the dance, he slithered his hand that was placed on her hip to rest on her stomach lovingly.

"Boy or girl?" He whispered to her, his eyes shining in happiness.

"I'm not psychic, my love," she replied, completely uncaring that they were both sharing a moment in the middle of the dance floor, which was now only occupied by them as the hall began to empty.

"Fine then, one or two? Twins run in your family, I hear," he asked eagerly.

"I only have the patience for one so you'd better hope not," she dramatically widened her eyes at him, causing him to chuckle.

"If it's a boy he'll have a Stark name."

Fianna scoffed, "the baby will have a Bua name!"

"What if it's twins? Can we name one a Stark and the other a Bua?"

"We can name them both Buas or you can run and catch up with Roslyn Frey!"

Robb rolled his eyes playfully, smiling down at her she felt compelled to continue, "I already know what to name him if he's a boy."

"Oh, do you? What weird Bua concoction have you come up with then? He'll be first of his name, I'm sure."

Dotingly, Fianna lifted her hand up and cupped his cheek, "Eddard. Eddie for short, perhaps. Or Ned. How's that for 'first of his name' for you?

The look on his face was priceless, his teasing smirk has dropped and Robb was looking more emotional instead. The love he felt for the woman in front of him was indescribable and he realised he would have done anything for her. Even died for her, if necessary.

"I love you, Fianna," he whispered, placing his forehead against hers. She smiled widely, tears springing in her eyes.

"I love you so much more, Robb."

He would have kissed her until he couldn't breathe just then, but deciding to ultimately be respectful in a house he had previously insulted, he instead began to lead Fianna back to their table and off of the dance floor.

The door shut with an echoing sound, and a new song began again. A song that set a chill in Catelyn's bones. She whipped around to look up at the music bringers, narrowing her eyes at the familiar song notes.

Elsewhere in the castle, Arya had fixed a mannequin in her room, and was hacking at it for the past hour or so with needle. She never washed off the dirt from her face, or attempted to fix her hair because she didn't care. Her mother would surely pass out upon seeing her again.

Grey Wind and Chroi's ears picked up at a sound unheard of to her, the two animals rose to their feet from where they lay next to the fire and bounded over to the door, starting to whine and scratch at the wood with their paws.

Arya looked at them suspiciously, wondering why they were acting like this. The wolfhound and direwolf had been tense since arriving to the Twins but she wasn't aware of why.

The small girl, fastened her sheath to her hip and shoved Needle inside of it. Suspicious, she peered out the window to look at the camp below, which seemed as merry as ever.

Back inside the hall, Catelyn was a ball of anxiety. Panic began to flood through her as the events of the day started to play in her head, desperately she was nitpicking at every moment that seemed strange to her.

Lord Walder raised his hand, effectively cutting the music off and called out, "Your grace!"

Robb, who was sat next to Fianna, pushed his chair back and stood up to respond. Catelyn reluctantly sat back down next to Roose Bolton, her eyes flickered about the room nervously.

"I fear I've been... _remiss_ with my duties," Walder began, as Catelyn's eyes drifted to Roose. She wished she wasn't sat here, she would rather be next to Fianna at this moment.

"I've given you meat, wine and music but I haven't shown you the hospitality you deserve," his words set her body alight with fear as Roose turned his head to look at her. Those eyes, she thought. Those damned eyes that looked so cold and dull and cunning, were filled with a new emotion. _Amusement._

Those same eyes flicked down to his arm that rested on the table, with shaking hands she lifted her fingers over and peeled back the cloth that covered his arm, revealing the chainmail laying underneath.

"My king has married and I owe my new queen a wedding gift!" Walder droned on in the background, his words caused Fianna to perk up. She doubted she wanted any gift coming from Walder Frey.

It took Catelyn all but a few seconds to realise what was going on, and all but a few seconds to realise what Tiernan had meant in his letter to Fianna.

 _Don't trust the flayed man._

Immediately, she stood and ripped her arm up, hitting him across the face and desperately shouting out, "Robb!"

Fianna's hand slipped down to one of the daggers she had hidden in her boot, just in case. Weapons were forbidden at a wedding, but she wasn't going anywhere at the Twins without something.

She heard the unmistakeable sound of a blade leaving its scabbard from behind her, and immediately ripped her own out from next to her ankle.

Turning to meet the assailant she knew would be coming, Fianna lifted her boot out and kicked the Frey son that was gunning for her straight in his privates, causing him to double over. Wasting no time, she stood and whirled her hand through the air, slicing the dagger along his throat and inducing a spray of blood to follow it.

Fianna turned quickly back to meet the eyes of her husband, who was too in shock to even move. A flicker in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she noticed the band that provided the music were now drawing their crossbows instead of instruments.

"Robb! _GET DOWN!_ " Too in a daze to listen, he turned around instead, so his wife lifted her knee and rammed it against the underside of the table until it flipped on its side, the table contents spilling onto the floor.

It was too late unfortunately, as one single arrow pierced Robb's shoulder before she could reach him. He stumbled from the impact, and she reached up to grab him by the arm, dragging him down to the ground and behind the safety of the flipped over table.

Fianna reached into her other boot and handed him the other dagger she carried, looking at him with wild eyes as he reached his free hand up to his impaled shoulder.

At that moment, the band turned their crosshairs onto the rest of the Stark party, sending arrows through their necks, chests and heads and one even managed to drive through the shoulder of Catelyn Stark.

Walder Frey watched smugly, sitting back down with his cup of wine that didn't give him near as much satisfaction as the sight before him did.

It was a slaughter happening. The Northern lords stood no chance, they were butchered under the hands of the Freys, rendered utterly defenceless by their lack of a weapon as those that survived the onslaught of arrows were immediately stabbed.

Fianna turned her attentions to Robb as this was happening, quickly inspecting the arrow and determining that it was not in a dangerous enough spot to attend to at that moment.

She didn't see the figure approaching her from behind, nor did Robb who was blinded by pain and shock. She only turned at the sound of a body hitting the stone ground and saw Ser Mick standing with a bloody dagger. He had saved her, as he swore he would.

"Mick!" She cried out, causing him to crouch down behind the shelter of the table.

Arya, unable to listen to the noise of the animals any more, grunted and stood from the window seat, pounding over to the door and wrenching it open.

"Fine then, go if you really want to!"

Immediately they shot off down the hallway, sprinting towards the stair case. Arya scrunched her eyebrows as worry began to fill her, checking that Needle was still fastened at her hip, she began to run after Chroi and Grey Wind.

The sound of voices gave her pause, and she wrenched Chroi back by the small rope around his neck that Fianna used to lug him about when he was being naughty.

Grey Wind still soldiered on as Arya hid behind the corner of a wall, desperately trying to hold onto Fianna's wolfhound.

"Where the bloody hell are those beasts?!" A man began to yell, and Arya realised with a jolt that they were next to the pen that had been holding in Chroi and Grey Wind.

She sneaked a peak around the corner and her eyes zoned in on the crossbows they held in their hands.

"Grey Wind!" She whispered desperately, but the direwolf already knew. He appeared from behind the wooden pen, growls erupting from his throat. Desperately the four men began to load their crossbow with an arrow, but it was too late. Grey Wind lunged through the air at one of them, immediately tearing his throat out.

The shock had loosened her grip on his rope, and Chroi shot off towards them just as Grey Wind took another man down. Arya, pushing aside the tormenting fear that overcame her for her mother, brother and friend, followed, drawing out Needle.

As Chroi ran up and bit a man in the balls, causing him to howl in agony, Arya sneaked up on the final man by coming out from the other side of the pen and ramming needle through his throat.

When the men were down, she looked around and gasped aloud in horror at the bodies littering the ground, bodies that wore clothing all too familiar and bearing sigils that she had grown up learning and relearning.

Determinedly, with Chroi and Grey Wind at her feet, she began to run towards the dining hall that she knew the feast was being held in to warn the others. Upon pushing, to her misfortune, she discovered the doors were locked, she began to pound desperately on them, Chroi and Grey Wind following suit.

Fianna and Robb's heads snapped up and the sound of Grey Wind and Chroi's echoing howls sounding from the entrance.

"We have to get out of here," she whimpered, clutching the dagger tighter in her hand and desperately looking over to Robb.

"You're right, we do," a voice sounded from beside them. Roose Bolton began to approach them in a crawl, his own dagger in hand that was already coated in blood. His eyes were wide with desperation, and it fooled them all for a minute.

The minute was short lived as even while he was shooting Fianna a desperate, panicked look, he was simultaneously burying his dagger through Mick's back.

Fianna let out a cry of shock as the only father figure she had left in her life fell flat on the ground. She began to scamper backwards, pushing Robb to move away, who was still incoherent with shock. She lifted her foot and kicked it out at Roose, but he only dodged it.

She stood up to meet him head on, her heavy skirts weighing her down and preventing her ability to fight effectively as she raised her arms defensively, her blade clutched in her fist.

Until now, Robb could only watch and not react. But this image had snapped him out of the dazed shock he had been in under as he gripped tighter the dagger Fianna gave him and sent it through the chest of a man who was approaching him. He picked it back up again and looked back to Fianna, who was exchanging laboured blows with Roose.

Robb moved to help her, but in a harrowing moment Roose balled his free fist and set it sailing towards Fianna's stomach, causing her to let out a cry of agony and pain.

Robb rushed to catch her as she was beginning to fall but Roose did instead, reaching for the top of her head he hauled her to her feet by his grip on her hair. Fianna dropped the dagger in an attempt to get free, but Roose only tightened his grip.

Stomping her foot down on his and using that momentary distraction to send her head flying towards his in a head butt that left his nose bleeding and her head aching, Fianna ripped the dagger from Roose's hand and rushed to Robb.

The two stood back to back, the blades they each held raised high as they prepared to fight off anyone that approached them. Robb had no idea where his mother was, but he couldn't afford to look now.

Lord Walder held his hand in the air, and the men he had that were in the midst of butchering the rest of Stark men immediately stopped what they were doing and stood waiting for their next command. Not one yet approached the King and Queen.

"The King and the Queen in the North," he called out mockingly, his hands gesturing towards the couple who didn't take their eyes off of the men surrounding them.

"How about another song?" He suggested, nodding his head towards the band who immediately reloaded their crossbows and aimed them directly at Robb and Fianna.

There was no getting out of this, Fianna realised. They were going to die tonight.

"No!" Robb shook his head, pushing Fianna behind him to protect her and standing facing the balcony that held the archers.

"I'll tell you what, drop the daggers and accept your fate and I'll let your whore of a wife live," Lord Walder smirked, knowing there was no way Robb would deny any chance to save his pregnant wife.

"Robb, don't," Fianna whispered from behind him. Their backs were still against each other, Robb facing the band and Fianna facing the Frey men.

Robb's expression crumpled. He didn't know how much he could trust Walder's word, but he knew that he would die for Fianna Bua. He knew it from the first moment he kissed her on that battlefield. He never thought he would have to, but he knew that he would die ten times over to ensure that she would be safe with their child.

So with tears in his eyes, Robb Stark accepted his fate and dropped the dagger onto the ground. At the sound of this, Fianna whipped around with wide eyes.

"Robb! No!" Fianna cried out, hers still in hand. Robb turned to her, the tears freely flowing from his eyes now.

"I love you," he whispered to her, his words felt like a blanket of ice had been wrapped around her.

"No, no, please don't do this, we can get out of this, Robb please!" She began to beg, tears of her own bursting from her eyes as a sob began to build in her chest.

As Fianna begged her husband not to give up, Catelyn Stark emerged from underneath a table, an arrow still lodged in her shoulder as she approached the young girl Lord Walder had married himself to, who cowered like the child she was under the table.

Catelyn dragged her by the hair out from the table, holding her against her body and held a knife she recovered from the table up to her throat. Lord Walder's eyes flickered to look over at her, looking almost bored by the sight.

"Lord Walder, enough!" She shouted at him, voice hoarse. "Let it end! Please! He is my son!"

Robb didn't look over to his mother as she pleaded for his life, he knew it was the end and he wanted to look into the grey eyes of the love of his life for a few moments more.

"Let them go and I swear that we will forget this! It is I who knew about the betrothal, not him! Let them both go and take me! I swear it by the old gods and the new we will take no vengeance!" She desperately begged, Lord Walder's expression unwavering.

"You already swore me one oath in this castle, you swore by all the gods that your son would marry my daughter!" He shouted, the most emotion she had ever seen erupt from him.

"Take me for your hostage! But let Robb and Fianna go!" She screamed at him, turning her head to look at her son who still had his back to his mother. "Robb! Move! Take Fianna and get out! Please! _Please!_ "

At the sound of Catelyn's begging, a sob erupted from both her and Fianna's throats. Robb wasn't listening to her. He knew what he had to do.

"And why would I let him do that?" Lord Walder drawled, from the corner of her eye Fianna saw Roose Bolton stand up straight.

But Catelyn straightened too, holding the dagger tight to his wife's throat she swore yet another oath in his castle.

"On my honour as a Tully, on my honour as a Stark, let him go or I will cut your wife's throat!" She swore.

Finally, Robb brought himself to turn away from Fianna and face forward towards his mother, his wife still begging from behind him silently.

"I'll find another," Walder smirked, sealing the fate of the three in the room forever.

"Mother," Robb called to her and she looked with bleary eyes and a distraught expression over to him, just as the band finally released their nocked arrows that went straight into Robb Stark's body at all angles. Not a single one hit Fianna, for he was standing in front of her.

Fianna had swore she would protect her liege lord, but in the end it was Robb who had protected her, just like he always had.

His body slumped to the floor and an ear piercing scream fell from Fianna's lips, echoing around the entire castle. Arya stopped her pounding on the door, there was only one thing that could make Fianna Bua scream like that.

Consumed by agony, Catelyn let out a roar. In her grief, she immediately slit the throat of Walder's wife and let her newly deceased body fall to the ground.

Roose Bolton, with a new blade in hand, started to approach Fianna from the side, who was staring blankly at the body of her husband. Her eyes were fixed dead on his face, searching for a sign of life.

When he was close enough, she whipped her arm out and slashed the dagger across his face, cutting him from jawline to eyebrow. He let out a howl of pain and veered backwards, away from her.

Catelyn had shut down completely, she already looked dead as she looked down to the ground, just waiting to die.

Fianna looked over as Black Walder approached Catelyn from behind.

"No- no- leave her please!" She shouted, but it fell on deaf ears as the Frey son slit Catelyn's throat from ear to ear.

Instead of the catatonic screaming state she was in before, Fianna broke. Tears fell from her eyes and sobs fell quietly from her mouth as she dropped to her knees, overcome with trauma.

She closed her eyes as she cried and cried, the rest of the room looking at her with amusement. It was not a sight one would often see, a broken Fianna Bua. But at that moment, she had lost everything.

Outside the hall, Arya knew what had just happened. She knew her family were dead, and her body was running on basic instinct now. Grey Wind had took off sprinting down a hallway when Fianna screamed, probably trying to find another way inside. Chroi continued to scratch furiously at the door.

Arya reached down and wrapped her nimble fingers around his rope and started to drag him along with her.

She was in a state of shock, she couldn't feel sad because she couldn't feel anything. Half dragging Fianna Bua's wolfhound, she set off towards the woods. Alone again.

Fianna's cries had still continued after a few moments when Roose had stood up again, the cut to his face sure to cause a scar.

"The blood will be a nightmare to wash out of the stone," Walder joked, taking another sip from his cup as he looked out over the disaster.

Roose lifted his foot and stomped down on Fianna's hand, which held the dagger underneath. She immediately let out a howl of pain, hearing a definite crunch indicating a broken bone.

Now that she was weaponless, he placed his hands underneath her armpits and hauled her to her feet, which she didn't protest. She was hoping this would be the moment he'd kill her.

"Don't worry, Fianna," Walder tutted falsely, "I keep my promises. You'll get to live." He then looked to Roose with a raise of his eyebrows, "you still taking her?"

"Lock her up for now, we leave in a few days back to Winterfell," Roose told him and Fianna's heart dropped. She somehow wished he would just kill her instead of taking her prisoner.

"Come on, little princess," Black Walder called to her mockingly, clutching her arm roughly, he and another of Walder's sons began to drag her backwards towards a room for the night.

She couldn't even bring herself to protest, she struggled in their grip and that was the only effort she could put forth as she was taken off.

* * *

Arya ran through the woods, Chroi finally starting to run along with her. When they were far enough from the camp, Arya began to cry too. Tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as the wind whipped against her face. She imagined her new look had held a factor in her escape from the Twins. She couldn't stop. She had to keep running.

Faces ran through her mind - her father, her mother, her brother. They were all gone and she was unlucky enough to be mere feet away when they were executed.

She told herself before she was returned to her family that the gods were cruel, but she didn't realise just how cruel. That they would allow her to be back in the arms of her mother only to kill her a few months later, just when she was finally comfortable and safe again.

She would have married the Frey boy, she would have wore dresses and grew her hair long, she would have done anything to bring her family back but for now, she had no one.

* * *

In the room she was being held, her hands were tied with rope and a metal collar hung around her neck, keeping her tied to the wall like a dog. She didn't cry or scream again that night, any tears that fell, fell silently. Perhaps if she had caused a ruckus, she would have roused her husband from his slumber mere rooms over.

Roose closed the door tightly behind him, watching as the maester applied poultices to the fresh wounds littering Robb Stark's body.

"The arrowheads didn't pierce anything too major, mainly muscle," the maester informed Roose, who hummed.

"You just don't want to die, do you?" He muttered to the seemingly lifeless body, approaching him from the side and marvelling over how peaceful his expression looked. "Will he wake up?"

"It's hard to say," the maester replied, "he's lost a lot of blood. If he doesn't develop an infection, I would say it will be a matter of days."

"That's enough time then."

"Enough time for what, my lord? If I may ask."

"For my son to get here, of course," Roose told him as if he should have known already.

* * *

 **SIKE! As if I would EVER have killed Robb off. This is a Robb/OC story and I've talked since the first chapter about the butterfly effect coming into play with Fianna's presence. I know so many people are gonna say what I did was stupid here, or just a cop out to keep Robb alive, but let me explain. Talisa wasn't a fighter, Fianna is. Talisa wouldn't have stood a chance against any of them but Fianna was trained to fight and could have definitely made a difference. Roose probably would have stabbed him in the heart had Fianna not fought him off, and in Game of Thrones world we've seen that a few arrows isn't enough to kill someone. Hell, Jon Snow survived being in icy water and pulled himself back out, if he can survive that it's not hard to think Robb might survive a few arrows.**

 **So yes, now you all know FINALLY what direction this book is going in. Robb and Fianna will be separated for a while (I have to warn you, it's a long while) and while they're both still alive, Robb will be tortured by Ramsay Bolton much like Theon was. Although it won't be to the same extent, he won't become Reek. I can totally understand if some of you choose not to read from this point on, but I think this is a new approach to a Robb survival story that hasn't been tried before, one where Robb survives and is tortured. In case it wasn't obvious either, Fianna is definitely still pregnant.**

 **I put so much bloody effort into this chapter, it's over 7000 words which is by far the longest one yet. I wrote it while dying with the flu and I watched that episode 5 times in total to get it just right. I really hope you all liked it because it is by far the most daunting chapter ever to write because it's one that everyone has been waiting for. This book isn't even close to being finished, I would say this is probably a halfway point. GAH. I'm so nervous for the reaction to this.**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - Everyone forgot about Arya's betrothal! But yes, you were spot on about her changing her appearance it kind of shielded her from running away. Grey Wind has run off and the dog is with Arya for now! I hope you liked this chapter!**

 **jean d'arc - You're absolutely right! I was kind of giving a nod to a moment with Ned and Arya back in the day where he told her it was her duty to marry a Lord and she was adamantly against it. I'm so sorry that I couldn't save Catelyn! I didn't see a chance to save her and I still wanted the chapter to have as much shock value as the show. But Edmure will be like the canon story and be held a prisoner, Grey Wind hasn't been shot (because NO, THAT WAS ONE OF THE SADDEST DEATHS FOR ME), Robb and Fianna also survived so I hope that you like that aspect of the chapter at least!**

 **Shannan - I laughed at that, you're so right he probably CAN smell a pregnant woman by now the big creep. I reallllly hope you liked my approach to the Red Wedding and the changes I made!**

 **RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond - On the shit side, Catelyn died, Robb and Fianna will be tortured. On the bright side, Robb survived! I truly hope you like it, well as much as you can like something so bloody and dark!**

 **Guest - ROBB SURVIVED DON'T DIE PLEASE!**

 **RHatch89 - Robb and Fianna survived! We can all relax now for a little bit! aha x**

 **reaganrose115 - I feel you, I'm crying too**


	27. (XXVI) Broken Crown

**Read the A/N please! The previous chapter has been slightly edited.**

* * *

 _Song: Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons_

 _Tiernan_

"I can't do it!" Rickon shouted in frustration, throwing his bow down to the ground like the child he was. To further his tantrum, he crossed his arms over his chest and literally huffed aloud.

"Yes you can, little man," Tiernan tried to soothe him, approaching the young boy and crouching down to his height.

He wasn't accustomed to this, the only child he ever spent time around was Fianna and that was when he himself was a child, too. Tiernan never thought much on having children of his own, he assumed it would happen eventually but in the far future.

Rickon's... caretaker was there, shadowing him as she always did. Tiernan barely spoke words to her, and Osha barely spoke words to him. They lived in a mutual silence and they were both happy with that.

At the beginning, Osha never left Rickon's side for even a second. She didn't know how much she could trust the Buas, so she greeted them with as much animosity as she met any Southerner, well anyone South of the Wall.

Tiernan knew he should feel weary of her, wildlings were massively frowned upon in Westeros. They were considered savage beasts and weren't permitted to live South of the wall, as they were too much of a danger. But he couldn't find it in himself to hate her, he remembered all too well those around the castle who would whisper about his low born father, they would doubt Tiernan as a leader and say that he didn't deserve the highborn upbringing Cillian gave him.

He may not have felt much about Osha, but he had on a number of occasions put a stop to those who felt the need to toss insults at her and whisper about her.

In the meantime, Tiernan had taken to teaching Rickon how to sword fight and how to master at archery. He himself didn't excel with a sword, but he was above average with a bow and arrow. Sword fighting was Fianna's expertise, it always had been, even when Tiernan grew taller and stronger than her, she could still overpower him any day.

"No, I can't," Rickon protested stubbornly, breaking Tiernan from his thoughts.

"Well can _anyone_ in your family do it?" Tiernan probed.

"Everyone in my family can do it, even _Arya_! And she's a girl!"

"Arya is older than you." Tiernan rolled his eyes, refusing to take him on in his tantrums which were more often than not. "And you have to practise, you're never going to learn if you throw your bow away every time you miss. Now pick it up and try again."

Rickon glared at him furiously, roughly picking it back up and taking a few steps back. He positioned himself accordingly, following Tiernan's instructions.

Tiernan stood back, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the young boy struggle to hold the arrow in place and draw the string simultaneously. When the arrow let off, it went soaring through the air - for about two feet. It plummeted to the ground far away from the target.

"Ugh!" He grunted, throwing the bow down again and stomping back inside of the castle.

"So," Tiernan smiled in amusement, calling after him, "we'll try again tomorrow, shall we?"

"Tiernan-" Conor's voice sounded to his side suddenly, startling him and causing him to jump.

"By the _gods,_ are you trying to make me shit myself?" He asked with a raise of his thick brows, looking to him expectantly. "Well, what is it?"

"There's been... news," he began, stuttering over his words and looking nervous all of a sudden. There was nothing more the man wanted than to not have to be the one to tell Tiernan about what he heard.

"Spit it out then," Tiernan urged, growing impatient.

"It's Fianna, my lord..." he muttered quietly, and that was all it took to completely grab Tiernan's full attention. His stomach twisted, somehow knowing what he was about to say before it was said just by the tone of his voice.

"The King and the Queen," he continued after a moment of silence, "they've been betrayed, it seems Roose Bolton and Walder Frey conspired with the Lannisters. The Stark party were butchered at Edmure Tilly's wedding."

" _Fuck_ ," Tiernan swore in absolute shock, looking away for a moment to process what he just heard. His mouth filled with questions to ask of his right hand man, but there was one thing more prevalent than all that he absolutely had to know. "Is she okay?"

Conor looked away anxiously, "I'm not certain, my lord. But... if the rumours are to be believed, she would have been butchered at the wedding. Her and Robb both."

The words washed over Tiernan but he could barely hear them, his blood rushing in his ears. He stood there for a moment, Baelfort never feeling as empty and as quiet as it did. Conor took it as a hint to leave and slowly began to back away after murmuring a sincere apology. He didn't reach more than a couple feet before his lord exploded.

Tiernan wasn't an emotional nor sensitive man. He considered himself, if anything, an angry person. He was angry at having the misfortune of a father dying before he got to know him. He was angry that his mother had left him at Baelfort a few years ago to live out her years in solitude in a bloody cottage. It pained him to admit it, but he was even sometimes angry at Fianna. She was considered superior to him, the heir of Baelfort and a warrior, now a Queen.

But Fianna was his best friend, as well as his cousin. More than a cousin, almost a sister. The blow from this would never be reparable.

So he reacted as he usually did, with mind numbing, blinding rage. Lifting up a stray bucket, he hurled it through the air until it hit off the stone wall, the force enough to break the planks of wood the bucket was made up of apart.

" _FUCK,_ " he bellowed loudly, catching the attention of everyone at the castle as all eyes turned to look at him. He rubbed his palms into his eyes, squeezing them frustratedly before harshly rubbing his hands down his face until his skin reddened.

He didn't know for sure if she was gone, but if she somehow survived the massacre, he doubted she would be anything more than a prisoner to Walder Frey. The thought sickened him to his stomach, and if he had the man power he would march on the Twins this instant and destroy the bastards.

But he didn't. He didn't have the strength in numbers, didn't have the strength. Three years ago, he would have left Baelfort already with a small army in tow, leaving his castle completely undefended. But he was older now, acting as the Lord had matured him.

Except now he wouldn't have to act. With Fianna dead, he _was_ the Lord of Baelfort. He got everything he had secretly longed for since childhood, and yet, he'd have given up everything to have his best friend back.

He couldn't have possibly risked losing any men now, Tiernan realised as he began to sober up from his anger. With his mouth set firm and his eyes blank, he looked to the direction Rickon had run off to. No, he needed everyone he had protecting Baelfort now. Because it wasn't just his castle, it was a castle housing the new heir to the North.

* * *

 _Daenerys_

The scorching heat was something she had become accustomed to now. When she first became Khaleesi and rode alongside Drogo, the heat was too difficult to bear, as was evident in her frazzled hair and constantly flushed face.

Now, she was cool in the blistering sun. Her perfect hair never frayed from its intricate braid, she barely broke a sweat as she rode along on her horse with one destination in mind, Meereen.

Daenerys Targaryen had chosen Ser Barristan and Ser Jorah to ride alongside of her, leading the vanguard. She found she enjoyed their company more so than others, their stories never failed to exhilarate her. Because they were stories about her homeland.

It was true her power was growing here every day, on this foreign land- growing as fast as her dragons. But at the end of it all, the one thing she truly wanted was a glimpse of her home country.

So in the mean time, she settled for Jorah and Barristan's stories. Daenerys knew only of the Targaryen family history, and briefly knew of the main Westerosi households. But she didn't _know_ much more than their names.

"Tell me more Ser Barristan, what else was happening in Westeros before you left?" She prodded after he had finished recanting the horrors of watching the boy king, Joffrey Baratheon grow up - he was a terror of a child it seems. The very same boy king who had dismissed Ser Barristan in the first place, which she was actually grateful of because it had allowed him to serve her now.

"Did I tell you yet of the King in the North, your grace?" He asked with a quirk of his brow, to which she shook her head earnestly.

"You mentioned his name in passing when telling me of the current false kings trying to gain control of the Seven Kingdoms, but nothing more than that."

"Well," he began, shifting in his saddle, "he's only but a boy, the same age as you I'd reckon. Ned Stark's eldest son, remember I told you of him?" When she nodded her head, he continued. "He called his banners to march to King's Landing to avenge his father's imprisonment, and they eventually hailed him King of the North."

"King of the North," she echoed, full of interest. "Have you ever met this 'King', Ser Jorah? You are from the North aren't you?"

"Once, my lady, on a visit to Winterfell. He was only a child then, running around the castle with his mother nipping at his heels."

"If circumstances were different I'd have suggested you marry him, to form an alliance," Barristan voiced, causing Daenerys to turn her head back to him in surprise. "The Starks are honourable men, but unfortunately he's spoken for I believe."

"Are you telling me there's a Queen in the North?" She asked curiously.

"Probably now, the last I heard he was smitten with a Bua girl despite being betrothed to another, until word broke that a hidden betrothal had been set up for him and Fianna Bua all along by his father, thus proving the other betrothal void."

"You'd like Lady Fianna," he continued when she didn't reply immediately.

"And why would that be?"

"She's a warrior, the Lady of her household. Set off to war and even fought the Kingslayer himself, tooth and nail."

Daenerys smiled to herself at this, anyone who fought the treacherous Jaime Lannister was a person she'd like. She had listened to her brother's rants for years now about him, how he had slain their father and assisted in the Targaryen downfall. It was hard for her not to dislike him for that.

"I knew her grandfather too, Ser Bonifer Hasty," he spoke again, his voice wistful as if remembering the man he once called a close friend. "He was a knight in the Stormlands. I reckon you'd like him too."

"And why is _that_?" She repeated her earlier question, but Ser Barristan only looked to her with clouded eyes. Like he knew something she didn't, and he probably did.

"I just think you would like him."

* * *

 _Arya_

Her feet and legs screamed at her to take a break, but she was running on basic survival instincts now.

Fianna's damned dog had left her long ago, she grew tired of having to force him to run alongside of her. The second she let go of the rope around his neck he whimpered and ran straight back to the Twins.

Arya couldn't have stopped him, she wouldn't have anyway. It was Fianna's dog, he would want to be with his master and not her, even if it meant he would surely be slaughtered the second he reached the Freys.

She hadn't seen Grey Wind since he took off from her too, and she could only assume he met his demise as well. Arya had once thought she was alone in the world, but now with her father, mother and brothers dead, with not even a dog in her company, she found that before she didn't even know the true meaning of loneliness.

When her lungs were shrinking from lack of oxygen and her head was throbbing from exertion, she finally let herself stop. The adrenaline was beginning to wear away and she couldn't keep running much longer.

Exhaustedly, she sank down against a tree, panting softly as she tried to regain her breath. It was late into the night now, morning just about to break as she drew her legs to her chest and nestled her face into her knees.

The tears that had dried up a few hours before had begun to lash down her cheeks again, sobs wracking her body as the grief overtook her.

She had never known such pain in her life, this was a million times worse than when she had slipped on a rock in a stream near Winterfell while playing and cracked her head. This was the type of pain no maester could soothe with poultices, that no rest could ail.

The grief was so overwhelming, she couldn't even bring herself to be angry at them because she couldn't feel anything else.

The sound of a twig snapping nearby, too nearby, broke her out of her misery as her head shot up to find the source.

Instantly, she all but leaped to her feet and drew Needle from the belt on her hip. Positioning herself and her sword, she slowly turned in a full circle, eyes scanning the surrounding woods.

Panic began to fill her when she thought they could have caught up with her, maybe she wasn't as fast as she originally thought. But after a moment of looking and not seeing anything, she finally let up and tucked Needle away.

Realising she had lost her direction and didn't know which way to go now, the memory of a conversation, well more of a rant Fianna threw at Gendry and Hot Pie, filled her mind.

 _The side of the tree where moss grows show the direction the sun shines._

Figuring out which way would take her North, she set off again. Arya was too wrapped up in her thoughts, wondering where she could even go for safety now that she didn't notice the figure approaching her until he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her into the air. The actions elicited a scream from her, her limbs flailing about automatically to fight back.

"Keep screaming, wolf girl," Sandor Clegane grumbled to the thrashing teenager in his arms. "It won't do you no good."

Arya kicked and hollered and head butted to her heart's content, to no avail. He was easily more than twice her size and width and could easily take what she could give him. In the midst of her fighting, he had snatched the sword from her hip and now it hung on his own, out of her reach.

He had been carrying her for some time now, his forearms underneath her armpits and his massive hands coming around and wrapping around the back of her head. He was holding her like a dog that was about to bite, and it was causing a discomforting ache in her neck.

Arya remembered Sandor Clegane from her short stay in King's Landing, he had a face she wasn't likely to ever forget. She wondered if she had stepped out of the frying pan that was the Frey's and into the fire that was the Lannisters.

"What are you going to do?" She muttered, her jaw set and her expression blank as she accepted her capture. "Return me to the Lannisters for a pretty penny?"

"If I went back to the Lannisters they'd have me hanged, your aunt is sitting on too much gold and silver over in the Eyrie I'd reckon," he told her honestly, his tone as frustrated as ever even though she was no longer fighting back.

"So you're... taking me to my aunt Lysa?" She asked in a smaller voice, pleasantly surprised. Lysa would be able to protect her there, she was one of only three family members she had left. "Why?"

"It's not out of the goodness of my own fucking heart anyway," he spat sarcastically, "I want some fucking compensation for returning Ned Stark's girl."

"Can you take my to my brother at Castle Black instead?" She asked eagerly, she couldn't remember if she had ever even met her aunt Lysa.

"All the way to the bloody wall to meet some cunt in black who won't be able to pay me?" He asked in offence, Sandor's face contorted in anger. "You're my prisoner now, d'ya hear? You'll go where I want you to bloody go."

After a while, he grew sick of carrying her and set her down on her feet, instead he bound her wrists with rope and forced her to walk alongside of him. Her feet often tripped over logs and sticks as he led her with the rope without any gentleness.

The burning in her wrists from the binds distracted her from the tragedy that occurred the night before and for that, she was almost grateful.

Perhaps she could go to Lysa for a while and then travel to Jon when the world was a safer place to be a Stark.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Her bound wrists were starting to bleed, they were relentless with tying them and the rope cut into her skin every time she so much as took a breath. Fianna's hands were bright red from the lack of circulation to her hands.

She didn't know how much time had passed, the light that shone through the small sliver of a window on the top of the wall indicated that it had been about a day since it all happened.

Her prison cell was freezing cold, and the fact that she was still in her dress from the night before didn't help matters much. But she barely noticed.

Fianna Stark was a broken woman.

Her eyes held a dead look to them as they flickered about anxiously, the events from the wedding playing on a loop in her mind. Her chest was tight and at times she had struggled to breathe. Every now and then she would get a tickle between her legs and she would nearly break her neck scrambling the skirt of her dress up to make sure that it wasn't blood.

Fianna wished she were dead. She didn't know why she wasn't. They had slaughtered her family and taken no prisoner other than herself, the only thing that stopped her thinking about finishing what they started and taking her own life was the small one growing inside of her.

The one thing connecting her to her deceased husband.

Fianna understood Aifric Bua more than ever now. All those whispers that she was her reincarnation, she should have taken it as a warning. Little did they all know, she was more like Aifric than they ever realised, for one aspect of the story that failed to pass down through generations was that Aifric herself had married a Stark too, Torrhen's cousin Cregan Stark.

Aifric was so blinded by loss and rage when he was killed by Aegon's army, she stood and let herself be enraptured by dragon fire.

Somehow, Fianna doubted even dragon fire would burn off the pain she felt.

The sound of the door being opened wasn't enough to rouse a reaction from her, being consumed by mind-numbing horror. Fianna didn't even react as one of the last people she wanted to see entered - Roslyn.

Fianna's eyes never looked up once, she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing just how intense her agony and pain was.

Roslyn was carrying a tray with bread and soup, her hair neatly pulled back although her dress was a dull grey as all Frey girls wore.

"You're not seriously coming to feed me, are you?" Fianna sarcastically asked, her nose twitching in disgust.

Roslyn looked down at the tray she held, annoyingly, she still held a nervousness about her despite playing a part in a massacre.

Next to the soup, there was a small bowl of water and cloth. Mortifyingly, Fianna thought Roslyn was about to clean her up a little. The prospect was enough to make her cry.

A warm trickle of blood had dried in where it fell down her face from where she was hit with the hilt of a sword. Roslyn placed the tray on the ground and dipped the cloth into the warm water, before lifting it up and dabbing Fianna's face, surprisingly gentle.

Fianna's eyes narrowed at her, gauging her expression, she realised Roslyn was actually _afraid_ of her. Fianna, who's hands were bound, who had a metal necklace around her neck that was chained to the wall, still instilled fear.

"I can get another dress if you want to get out of that one," Roslyn whispered when she successfully cleaned up Fianna's face, gesturing with her head to the red dress, now torn and stained, that Fianna was still wearing from the night before.

"No," Fianna refused, she didn't want anything from Roslyn Frey, well Roslyn Tully now she supposed.

"I'm sorry," she looked down, and Fianna suspected she was sorry for more than just Fianna refusing to wear her dress.

"Isn't this what you wanted? I took your betrothed," Fianna remarked drily, sniffling and leaning her head back against the wall.

"I didn't know, honestly. Edmure and I were getting along so well... they tore him from me when we... consummated our marriage," her cheeks flushed as she said this, causing Fianna to roll her eyes.

"What do they want from me?" She decided to ask, wondering if the girl even knew. She wasn't sure if she trusted that Roslyn knew nothing, but either way, she was going to use her to her advantage.

Roslyn swallowed nervously, looking back to ensure that they were alone as she debated with herself on whether or not to tell her. Guessing that it wouldn't matter either way, and deciding she deserved to know, she told her.

"I overheard my father and Roose Bolton discussing in the dining hall today," she whispered even though they were alone, "it seems they want to keep you alive until your baby is born."

"Because he's the heir to the North..." she whispered in shock, her eyes wide and focused on the ground, Roslyn nodded.

"I'm guessing Roose wants to use your babe to convince the Northern lords to follow him and not start an uprising."

"And if he has my babe since he's an infant, he can force him to think like he does and bend my child to his will, because Robb and I won't be there to stop him," she realised, her heart clenching. Just when she thought she'd never feel anything again.

Seeing that Fianna was refusing to eat, Roslyn lifted the tray and slowly retreated to the door, her head hung in shame.

"I swear to you," she began, her body straightening as Roslyn turned back to look at her, "I swear on all the gods. I swear on the body of my deceased husband and I swear on my own life, one day I will kill every single last one of you, and you'd better hope you're not here when I do it ."

Roslyn nodded sadly, opening the door carefully and closing it behind her. She had no doubt in her mind that Fianna was going to hold to that oath.

* * *

 **I really struggled to write this chapter, those of you that read the author's note I posted(and now deleted) will know why.**

 **I decided to continue this story after receiving an overwhelming amount of support, I could write to each and every review but it would be as long as a chapter itself. Thank you all so so much for voicing your opinions, I think pretty much everyone told me that it was my story and I should do what I want with it. I thank you all so much for your support in that, I really** _ **really**_ **needed the encouragement.**

 **With regards to the r*pe scene in the last chapter, I did decide to remove it. Although everyone told me to do what I wished with the story and this played a part in Fianna's character development from now until the end of the book, a lot of people were uncomfortable and some couldn't read it at all because of the trigger warning. So I'm removing it because I want everyone to be able to read the story, and if I continued with that plot point it would be massively mentioned for the rest of the book. This isn't the show where a r*pe scene can be fast-forwarded and never mentioned again, if I continued it I want to do it justice and show how truly traumatising it is and how one recovers from it, instead of just making it happen and never bringing it up again.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, the POV changed a lot and I've introduced a Daenerys POV which I haven't done before. Arya's narrative will continue as the canon, with Sandor taking her and her ending up with the Faceless Men. However I will revisit her at times because her character won't be as sociopathic as the show because of the few short months she spent with her family. I've also shown Walder and Roose Bolton's reason for keeping Fianna alive, as someone told me it didn't make sense to keep her alive. To elaborate on that, she's pregnant with the heir to the North. The narrative is heavily influenced by Mary, Queen of Scots - Mary had a son, the heir to the Scottish throne, who was taken from her as a baby and influenced by Protestant Lords so he had Protestant ideologies and rejected his birth mother. Similarly to this, Roose Bolton plans to take Fianna's child at birth and raise him under his influence and to influence the North to not rise up and rebel.**


	28. (XXVII) Muddled Memory

_Song: You Are a Memory by Message to Bears_

 _Ramsay_

"Open the gates!" He heard screamed by a guard of the Twins, the small party of men he held behind him were waiting patiently behind Ramsay Bolton for the Twins to unfurl their gates and allow them inside.

But he himself wasn't feeling very patient. Any and all meetings with his father made him nervous, the nature of his visit to the Twins only furthered that. But he couldn't deny there was one feeling overpowering that by a long mile, a sensation of pure excitement.

Breaking Theon Greyjoy was fun, breaking a King could only be even more so.

Reek wasn't permitted to come, lest anyone should recognise him or he should chance an escape. He was safely back in the Dreadfort in his own pen along with the hounds.

When they were finally able to enter the stronghold, he was surprised to find his father actually waiting there for him. Usually when Ramsay visited, he would have to seek him out.

Even though he was waiting for his sons arrival, Roose Bolton still wore a look of dismay as he always did. The fat young woman, who Ramsay did not recognise, at Roose's side looked more pleased to see him than his father did.

Quickly, he dismounted his horse and approached his father, both men's jaw clenched all the while.

"Hello father," he greeted, as Roose looked him over suspiciously.

"Walda," he began, gesturing to the woman beside him, "this is Ramsay Snow, my bastard."

Gods, she truly was ugly, Ramsay thought. The very definition of a Frey. He knew his father had taken a Frey bride for himself, why he had chosen one so hideous he couldn't fathom - he heard Edmure Tully's bride was actually beautiful.

Plastering a fake smile on his lips, he moved forward and kissed her on the cheek politely, greeting her with "hello, mother."

She couldn't have been much older than Ramsay himself, so the statement seemed to alarm her.

"Where is that little pet of yours?" Roose asked in a quieter tone after dismissing his wife with a nod of his head.

"Back in the Dreadfort," he replied, a proud smile growing on his face.

"What did you do with him?" His father asked, narrowing eyes piercing through his son.

"I trained him," he said, disgustingly happily with the atrocities he had committed, "he was a slow learner, but he learned."

"Trained him how, Ramsay?" Roose sighed, filled with contempt for his son. Ramsay rapidly blinked for a few seconds before replying vaguely.

"Peeled a few bits, removed a few others."

Roose gripped him roughly by the collar and hauled him forward to him, before realising their very public location and decidedly letting him go. Instead he chose to wrap an arm around Ramsay's shoulders and begin to walk with him inside the castle, squeezing his shoulder harshly.

"Theon is Balon Greyjoy's son and heir," he whispered furiously.

"We've been flaying our enemies for a thousand years," Ramsay retorted, eyes full of confusion as to why his father wasn't impressed. "The flayed man is on our banners-"

"My banners, not yours. You're not a Bolton, you're a Snow," Roose reminded him, crushing Ramsay's ego.

"Tywin Lannister has given me the North," he continued, letting go of his grip on Ramsay as they walked beside each other through the cool halls of the Twins. "But he won't lift a finger to help me take it."

"Isn't that why we have Robb Stark, now?"

"It's not Robb Stark who holds an army at Moat Cailin. As long as the Iron born hold Moat Cailin, our armies are trapped South of the Neck. Theon was a valuable hostage, not your plaything," he scolded, Ramsay visibly deflating. "I wanted to trade him for Moat Cailin."

"I already asked, Lord Greyjoy refused. Savages have no-" he began to quote, before Roose cut him off.

"You sent terms to Balon Greyjoy without my consent?"

"You made me acting Lord of the Dreadfort! I acted!"

Roose grabbed Ramsay and flung him against the stone wall, holding them there by his grip on Ramsay's lapels. His son closed his eyes to calm himself before opening them to reveal Roose's cold, grey and furious set of peepers.

"How much of a struggle did it take for you to get past the Greyjoys on your way here?" When Ramsay didn't reply, he went on, "I needed Theon. I needed him whole."

"Theon was our enemy, but Reek? Reek will never betray us," his words stunned Roose and caused him to shake his head in disgust, dropping his hands.

"I placed far too much trust in you," he took a step back, "not a chance in the seven kingdoms will I let you get your hands on Robb Stark."

His nostrils flared in fury, he had travelled the entire journey from the Dreadfort because his father had asked. Now, that was all for nothing?

"Bran and Rickon Stark are alive," he said suddenly as Roose was walking off, his words stopping him in his step. He turned his head to the side, not even bothering to turn around.

"What?"

"Bran and Rickon Stark, they're alive."

Roose turned fully at this, giving his son a once-over as if he had gone mad, "Bran and Rickon Stark were murdered with their bodies on display at Winterfell, you told me that."

"It was two farm boys. Reek burnt them to a crisp so no one would know. He told me that, because I've trained him to tell me these things. Because he's loyal to me."

A flicker, even the slightest, escaped from Roose's eye - one of acknowledgment. Ramsay fooled himself into believing Roose might be interested in his sons... activities.

"The Starks have always ruled the North, and they think we've just killed their King and Queen. If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side," Ramsay explained.

"Not with Robb Stark and his heir on our side, they wouldn't risk them any harm," Roose denied with a shake of his head.

"It'll be months before Fianna Stark has her babe. The North doesn't even know she's alive, there's nothing keeping them from uprising with what they think is the heir to Winterfell on their side."

Roose contemplated for a moment, face wrinkled with stress. It took all but a minute before he caved to his sons wishes and looked to Locke, who had been silently accompanying them.

"You ready for a hunt?" He asked him.

"Always."

"Travel North, find those boys and I'll give you one thousand acres and a holdfast."

With a nod of his head, that was all it took to seal the agreement as Locke turned to jet off to ready his horse and men for the long journey ahead.

"Jon Snow is at Castle Black," Ramsay commented, fighting to hide a smirk.

"Who the fuck is Jon Snow?" Locke called out as he made his way out of the room they all were now situated in.

"Their bastard brother, he could be sheltering them," Roose commented.

"Even if he isn't, he's half Stark himself. Could be a threat," Ramsay insinuated, his father looking back to him with a lighter expression that before.

Instead of replying, Roose ran his hand over his balding head and sighed heavily.

"Father, the matter of Robb Stark?" Ramsay pried.

"Not a chance. If the Northerners get wind that we have flayed their chosen King, we'll have men, women and children at our doorstep."

"No flaying, no dismembering. I can keep him as a prisoner as you take back the North. I'll get him to trust me and we can use him against these Northern houses," he practically pleaded.

"Don't dare even harm a hair on his head, Ramsay," Roose warned.

"I won't, father," he grinned wickedly. Yes, he was going to have some fun with Robb indeed - maybe not physically, but definitely emotionally.

* * *

 _Fianna_

They had finally let her free of her neck chain, so she was allowed to roam the room and stretch her legs. Albeit, she didn't make it far, shackles bound her feet and hands. It was almost a compliment that they were that afraid of her abilities they had to go to such measures to keep her, a young woman, at bay.

Although Fianna was given free reign of her room, it was still a prison cell, and there wasn't much to reign about in. She had no books to read, no window big enough or lowered enough for her to see out of, nothing to occupy her time.

So while she waited, she planned.

Every single detail she could remember, she remembered. She took note of the exact time the guards at her door would change, when Roslyn Frey would bring her food like clockwork, even how many stones were in the walls. She worked out from the direction of the sun shining through the small sliver of a window at the top of the wall what general position of the castle the cell was, which was the South of the Twins. From this, she was able to devise from memory, possible ways to escape should she exit from the South, South-East or South-West of the castle. Of course she considered the North, East and South too, for good measure.

Her plans stretched even farther than that, images of every possible way she would kill Walder Frey and Roose Bolton flashed across her mind. The desire for revenge was becoming an itch that she always acknowledged in the back of her mind, it almost scared her to think just what she would do if given the power.

Most expecting mothers thought of baby names, yet here Fianna Stark was - devising escape plans and ways to torture her captors.

Like clockwork, the pitter of Roslyn Frey's small feet started to echo down the deadened halls. Time to act again.

Her face appeared through the bars of the cell door, giving Fianna a tentative smile as a guard unlocked the door for her.

Fianna forced herself to give one in return, Roslyn was an essential factor in her escape plan. To become close to her, she would have to plaster a fake smile on her face and appeal to the girl's inner disgust of her father. She could tell that Roslyn was ashamed of the events of the Red Wedding, more so because it was her wedding. The imprisonment of her husband surely played a part in her newfound resentment of her family.

She would never tell this to Fianna though, and Fianna knew better than to ask.

Roslyn came in and gently placed down some food next to Fianna. The first day, she refused to eat. But then she realised her own stubbornness was only depriving her child and henceforth, she couldn't stubbornly starve herself any longer.

"So what's it like up there? In the real world?" She asked the girl, equal in age to herself. Roslyn looked with wide eyes as she contemplated whether or not to tell Fianna. Gods, how Fianna hated when she wore that innocent expression. She was a Frey, after all. How innocent could she truly be?

"Ramsay Bolton arrived today," and Fianna swore inwardly. This could be a good thing, she recognised. He could possibly delay his father from leaving, thus giving her a chance to escape. Once she was gone from the Twins and sent to the Dreadfort, she doubted she would get the chance for escape again. Roslyn wouldn't be leaving with her.

"I wonder why he's here..." Fianna mused, and Roslyn shrugged in response. Of course she wouldn't know anything, she thought, her head was as good as one filled with rocks.

She struggled to eat with her hands shackled, but she exacerbated this to play with Roslyn's sympathy for her. She needed her to feel pity if she was going to help her escape.

Faking frustration, she dropped the food back down to the plate and groaned, even pouting her lips for effect.

"I'm absolutely starved, and I can't even eat with these shackles," she whinged, secretly pinching the skin of her leg with her fingers until her eyes watered.

"They do look rather... difficult..." she agreed, nibbling on her lower lip as she watched Fianna struggle.

"I don't understand why they even shackle me, I'm already stuck in this cell. It won't be good for my baby if I can't eat..." she continued, making her voice sound shaky as if she were ready to cry.

She kept this demeanour up for a few minutes, her lower lip shaking with unshed cries, until Roslyn broke.

"What if.. what if I were to fetch the keys from my father's solar?" She suggested, causing Fianna to whip her head up to look at her with red, teary eyes.

"You would do that for me?"

"I mean.. you'll put them on again won't you? If my father or anyone should visit? I'll let you keep the keys to the shackles, so then I won't get in trouble!" They spoke in hushed, whispered voices so as the guard at her door wouldn't hear. "And it's not like you're going to escape anyway, you're in a cell."

Fianna beamed, although inside she wasn't all that happy. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be happy again after the horrors she had witnessed.

"I will, thank you..." she whispered, and Roslyn eagerly nodded her head. The little fool, she thought.

After a few more failed attempts at eating, Fianna informed Roslyn she was finished, causing the girl to promptly pick up the tray, throw her one more smile and leave the cell.

That smile told Fianna that Roslyn would secure the keys to the shackles, and that would lead on to phase two of her plan.

When night had fallen, she approached the small window and stood on her tip toes to reach as far as she could for the direwolf to see her.

"Not yet," she whispered to Grey Wind as his muzzle poked through the bars of the window. He whined lowly until she shushed him, turning her head to ensure the guard at her door had not heard. "Run along now before someone sees you."

She waved him off with her hand and he finally left to go retreat to the woods for another night. Fianna didn't need him now, that was for phase three.

* * *

 _Robb_

Everything was black. For as long as he could remember now, and even before that. Was this what death was? This endless night?

Images would flicker in his mind, a woman, much older than him with eyes filled with adoration. A man, also much older, who he had been desperate to please for whatever reason. A girl, younger than the others but the same age as him he knew, his heart would clench when he seen this image

He wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew these were his memories, the life he had lived. Then there were moments he'd see things that he never experienced before, glimpses of a life he had yet to live.

In these images, he wouldn't see the older man and woman. He would see the younger girl, a few years older than before and in place of the smile that took his breath away she wore an expression of coldness. Her cold demeanour was ironic, because he would occasionally see her engulfed by flames - although it would never harm her. She stood amongst the fire as if she was apart of it, her clothes were burned away to expose naked flesh and yet still, it did not affect her nor even redden her skin.

This one frightened him, but it was often cancelled out by a more peaceful vision of two children, a boy and girl, happily playing in a lake next to a large castle. He liked this one the most.

Slowly but surely, his senses were returning to him - and along with this, the pain from his injuries.

It was gradual, almost as if he could start feeling in his toes and then it moved upward through his body until he felt the full extent of his trauma. He could feel the hardness of a surface underneath him, the cool draft of air flowing over him, the smell of damp. But still he wasn't awake, perhaps he simply didn't want to wake up.

Along with regaining his senses in his dream-like state, Robb Stark could hear things going on around him. Occasionally, a man would open a door, close it, ask another how 'he' was doing to which he'd always receive 'just the same' as a response. This occurred regularly, although he had no grasp of time and therefore couldn't determine just how regularly.

Another while had passed, and along with his senses he was beginning to remember. Remember her, remember his mother, his father, his sister. At first it was old memories, playing with his brothers in Winterfell, being scolded by his parents for misbehaving, holding his wife in his arms. Unfortunately, newer memories eventually began to flood in - and that was when he remembered why he was in this position. His family were dead, he was sure of it. But there was no way he'd be able to find out for definite in this state.

So carefully, and with much effort behind it, Robb Stark opened his eyes and prepared himself for what he would see.

* * *

 **Finally, a teaser of Robb with a little of Fianna planning her escape.**

 **For those wondering why I don't update twice a week any more, I've just started back at uni again for a new semester so it's hard to find time to write but I do try to write at least one chapter a week!**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, followed and favourited!**

 **Guest - I quite like the idea of Dany and Robb too! Obviously not in this story but still aha, I never thought about them until I seen an edit video and I thought wow that would be a power couple. I'd much prefer them to Jon and Daenerys. I feel much better about taking the rape part out too, actually! I don't want people to feel extremely uncomfortable reading this story. No that was a different Cregan Stark, in this story Torrhen had a cousin named Cregan who married Fianna's ancestor - he doesn't exist in the books or show so he's kind of an OC! Just to clarify, they didn't have children together so Fianna and Robb aren't related at all aha. You're right it's going to be a lot more difficult now but essentially, the Buas are entering the Game of Thrones for real now and that's all I'll say! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - you're welcome! I couldn't bear to let it go with how much I've done and how much I still have to do! I'm glad the red wedding was much easier to read and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **Shannan - I'm glad you think so! Tiernan the babysitter is going to protect the little one that's for sure. Fianna's grandfather Ser Bonifer Hasty is an actual character in ASOIAF books, if that's some food for thought for you ;), without spoiling, if Fianna and Arya teamed up to take down the Freys I'd be fangirling over my own book. And I will say that don't worry about Robb's baby maker, Ramsay won't be taking that away that's for sure! Thank you so much for reviewing as always and I hope you liked this chapter x**

 **Guest - I have mixed opinions of Daenerys, sometimes I like her, sometimes I don't but I do think she's a bloody badass and she's the actual reason I started watching GoT in the first place! I completely agree with you actually Davos and Lyanna are my favourites too! I'll probably introduce them later on because that would be too good not to!**

 **Vji - take me out of the oven, because this chapter is done x**

 **Guest1995 - Grey Wind as you can see was slithering about this whole time! Fianna's baby is definitely still alive yes! As for what happens to Robb and Fianna, you'll have to wait and read about it x**


	29. (XXVIII) I Stand Alone

_Song: Anachronism by Crywolf_

 _Fianna_

The usual time came around, as did Roslyn. Fianna prayed to all the Old gods that she had pulled through, the shackles were beginning to rub harshly on her skin and even if she managed to escape, she wouldn't make it far with these restraints.

The door opened agonisingly slowly as Roslyn appeared behind it, her face solemn so as not to raise suspicions with the guard. She was carrying her usual tray of food and when the door closed behind her, closed, not locked, she kneeled down next to Fianna.

The second the door closed she broke into a wide, youthful looking grin. Immediately, she kicked off her shoe and dove her fingers inside of it, yanking out the key she was keeping hidden inside.

Fianna forced a smile in return, feeling a lot more hopeful than she had in a week now. Roslyn reached down and inserted the key into the lock on her wrists, swiftly opening it and then grabbing the shackle before it should fall to the ground with a bang. She then repeated this for the ones around her feet.

"Thank you," Fianna acted as if the weight of the world had been lifted by this action, but she wouldn't feel at ease until she was far from here. And not even then.

"You're welcome," Roslyn answered shyly, looking proud with herself as if she had done a great deed, rather than made a colossal error. Gently, she placed the key into Fianna's palm and smiled encouragingly. "You will put them back on when anyone should check on you? Won't you?"

"Of course I will," she lied through her teeth, she was never wearing those chains again. "I'm forever in your debt for this."

Keeping up with the rouse, she reached down and began to hungrily dig into her food, moaning as if it was the tastiest thing she had ever eaten. She stopped when she was halfway finished, which prompted Roslyn, who had been waiting patiently, to reach down to lift the tray.

"Wait," Fianna stopped her, "can I keep the rest for later? I'm full now but now that I can eat again, I will surely want the rest later tonight."

"Of course," Roslyn agreed politely, standing up and dusting off the front of her dress where she had been kneeling.

When she left and was out of sight, Fianna actually finished off the food. Not out of hunger, but out of necessity.

* * *

 _Ramsay_

"W-" Robb Stark barely mumbled before Ramsay hushed him quickly, slipping back into a routine he had already done before, he rushed over to the table Robb laid on with a worried expression.

"Nobody knows you're in here," he whispered to him, his eyes wide and a finger over his lips. Robb blearily opened his eyes, squinting immediately. It took all but a minute before panic set in.

He shot up immediately and flailed around as he tried to get upright. Ramsay immediately gripped him harshly by the shoulders and all but threw him back down to lay again, hushing him once more.

"What's going on?" Robb asked suspiciously, his voice hoarse with his blue eyes anxiously looking around the room.

"Everyone was trying to cut your head off and put it in a bag but thankfully, I managed to pull your body back inside. One more minute out there and you'd have bled to death," Ramsay falsely informed him, he had spent an extensive amount of time on what he was going to do to Robb Stark and this was only the beginning.

"What happened? Where's Fianna?" He asked in a rushed voice, his eyes wild with panic and anxiety.

"You.. you don't remember?" Ramsay asked, feigning shock.

"Remember what?!" Violently, he shoved Ramsay's hands off of his shoulders and attempted to get back up again. When he was sitting upright, he moved to hop off the table but Ramsay's next words immediately halted him.

"You killed her, Ike..."

With interest, Ramsay studied Robb's reaction to this. At first, his expression didn't change apart from a twitch of his brows. Then he began to shake his head in denial, his expression growing increasingly angry.

"Killed her? What the fuck are you talking about?!" He jumped off this time and immediately shot out for Ramsay, his hands reaching for the other's neck as he hauled him against the wall. The Bolton bastard allowed him to do so, it was all a part of the act anyway.

"At the wedding!" He grunted, his hands held in the air weakly in defence. "You poisoned King Robb, Queen Fianna's and Lady Catelyn's cup?"

In a burst of absolute rage and shock at what he was hearing, Robb roughly gripped his jaw and squeezed it harshly.

"I am Robb Stark, fool! Why would I kill my own wife?!" He practically spat the words out. Ramsay to this, tutted and shook his head sympathetically.

"They really are as mad as they said you were..." he mused, sighing softly. "You're not Robb Stark. And Fianna Bua was never your wife."

"This isn't a joke any more! Take me to my wife and mother now!" At this point, he was seething in anger. His face had turned a bright red as the veins in his neck began to pulsate, flecks of spit would fly out of his mouth with the ferocity with which he spoke.

"They're dead!"

Finally, Robb released Ramsay from his grip and stumbled a few step backwards. His eyes were downcast and his face wore an expression of absolute and utter shock.

"No, they can't be..." he'd whisper, and Ramsay fought back a smirk as he rubbed his neck to soothe it.

"This needs to stop, this madness. She was never yours and now she never will be," he said as if he was comforting him. Reaching out to place a hand on Robb's shoulder, Robb roughly shrugged his arm away from his reach.

"They can't be dead," he said in a stronger tone, but his demeanour was breaking.

"You killed her-" Ramsay began again, but he had pushed too far too quick and Robb lashed out accordingly by roughly shoving him backwards and darting towards the door.

"Ike, don't!" He began to shout, using Robb's new identity which he had decided upon himself.

Robb wrenched the door open and took off like an arrow down the hallway, uncaringly shoving people out of his way. He barely noticed how people would gasp in shock at the sight of him and immediately step backwards as the former King of the North, presumed to be dead and rumoured at the Twins to be alive, ran barefoot in a frantic manner through the halls.

Although Robb Stark conveniently had little remembrance of the wedding, probably due to the condition he was in thereafter, he remembered the direction towards the dining hall surprisingly well.

His heart pounded in his chest, his Fianna wasn't dead. His mother wasn't dead. He'd know if they were dead. The bond he shared between his wife was so different to his bond with his mother yet still, they both defied the parameters of life and if either one had passed on, Robb would have known as soon as he woke up.

Dramatically, he all but kicked open the wooden doors to see for himself. He knew no other place that was better to start looking for answers than here, where his most recent memory was held.

He didn't know what he was searching for, perhaps for Fianna or his mother themselves. Maybe he would walk in as the celebrations were rife, but he knew that wouldn't be right. The day was light outside, and his men were nowhere to be seen. No wedding or celebration of any kind was being held today.

What he did see upon entering though was a small servant girl, dressed in a grey, plain dress and on her knees on the ground. She was brutally scrubbing at something on the ground that was invisible to his eye from his perceptive. He slowly began to inch forward to see, watching as the girl struggled to clean whatever was there. She would routinely sigh in exasperation.

He was a few feet away when he saw it, clear as day settled into the small fissures of the stone and dried brown from the passage of time was a large blood stain. There was no denying that.

Robb's heart clenched in his chest, someone did die in here recently. Who it was, he was unsure of but his hope was beginning to dwindle.

He barely noticed when a hand gripped his shoulder for reassurance, Ramsay's damning words whispering into his ear.

"You slipped the poison in the jug of wine the King, Queen and King's mother shared. It was a violent sight to behold, that stain right there was the blood that spewed from Queen Fianna's mouth."

He barely finished his sentence before Robb whirled to the side and began to loudly dry heave, wanting to vomit to relieve himself of the disgust and nausea, but his stomach was empty. His eyes watered, but it wasn't the dry heaving that caused that.

"You have a problem, Ike. You slaughtered a whole family because the Queen didn't want you, because of your obsession with her," Ramsay's words continued to torture him.

"No, we were together-"

"No you weren't!" Ramsay said in a hushed tone, pretending to glance around to make sure no one was listening. "They know your name, but only a few know your face. Where did you think those wounds came from?"

To tell the truth, Robb hadn't even noticed them before now. But after he mentioned it, he felt the sting of fresh wounds litter around his body and only just noticed the bandages encircled around him.

"Come along," he tugged on his arms, Robb was so broken he actually allowed him. "I'll tell you the story of what happened."

* * *

 _Fianna_

Hug the wall and listen carefully, she would tell herself over and over. She informed Grey Wind when he made his nightly visit to her small window and hoped the direwolf would listen.

Fianna Stark's back was flush against the cold, moist wall. She was shivering from the coldness of it, but her determination kept her fiery. Her mind briefly flashed back to the time she was held prisoner at Harrenhal and how she escaped from there.

The tray Roslyn had foolishly left was clutched tightly to her chest and the keys to her shackles were tucked into her bodice, just in case. She had instructed Grey Wind to slaughter all the guards blocking her path to the outside after Roslyn had entered. It was insane how much the direwolf understood human command, and even more insane how much he listened to Fianna when it was Robb he was sired to. Was.

She could hear the small greeting Roslyn and her guard gave each other and pressed herself tighter against the wall next to the cell door. When the door would open, she would be momentarily concealed behind it as it opened out.

Just as planned, the door opened and Roslyn stepped inside. The girl barely looked around to make sure Fianna was there, she just trusted that she was and turned to close the door. That's when Fianna struck out.

Gripping the sides of the tray tightly, she whirled around and walloped Roslyn over the head as harshly as she could. The Frey girl immediately sank to the ground, passed out or dead Fianna wasn't sure and didn't have time to check.

This action alerted the guard, who whirled around and reached for his sword quickly. But Fianna was quicker. Throwing the tray to the ground, she rushed forward and kicked her foot at his reaching hand, simultaneously throwing her fist out to bash against his cheek. It wasn't as hard of a punch as it could have been, but Fianna was weak and pregnant.

The guard stumbled back from the hit but mainly from shock. While he was stunned, she lifted her fist to hit again but he had recovered quickly - grabbing her fist in his hand and squeezing it hard enough to crack her knuckles.

She grunted in pain as her free hand pawed at his to get it off, the glint of the hilt of his sword shone in the corner of her eye and she shot out to grab it but he only let go of her hand to push her backwards.

Fianna fell back a few feet and lost her footing, sailing down to the ground she threw her hands out to break her fall and protect her belly instinctively.

This time, when he grabbed his sword he removed it entirely from its scabbard and held it at his side. Fianna was running out of options fast and had no choice but to scamper backwards into her cell with panic.

With every inch she moved backward, he would stalk towards her menacingly with his sword gleaming proudly. He began to raise it into the air, ready to strike her with it.

Fianna quickly shut her eyes to prepare for the hit, surprisingly she wasn't frightened now. The prospect of meeting Robb again bloomed through her mind as she accepted her fate.

But the Gods decided it wasn't time for them to reconcile, it seemed. As at that moment, two large furry forms scampered down the hallway and hurled themselves into the air at the guard's body, knocking him to the ground.

"Chroi!" Fianna cried out, a sense of happiness, albeit small, filling her that she never thought she'd see again. As Grey Wind devoured the guard, Chroi trotted towards his master quickly and began to lick her face. She soon stopped him when she realised blood soaked his teeth and tongue.

A wide grin took over her face, she thought her best companion was dead for sure. He must have found Grey Wind and followed him.

Just as Fianna was pushing herself up to get up and leave quickly before more guards arrived, she hadn't realised that the figure laying next to her was getting up too.

Drawing a small blade from her boot that Fianna wasn't aware Lord Frey insisted she carried when visiting Fianna, Roslyn Frey-Tully's innocent demeanour fell to reveal the underlying ruthlessness her family was known for. Fianna's betrayal had pushed her over the edge, so she shot her dagger-holding hand out and sliced through the closest thing to her.

Fianna whipped her head around as Chroi let out an agonising whine, a scream falling from her lips as her most trusted companion collapsed to the ground, fresh blood practically pouring from his side.

Her eyes glanced up to spot the perpetrator and a rage she didn't have the body capacity to hold fuelled through her. Wasting no time, Fianna dived toward the girl and knocked the knife from her hand. She wouldn't need a knife for what she was planning on doing.

Her vision turned red as Fianna settled her body on top of Roslyn's and wrapped her fingers around her throat, digging them harshly enough to cut off her air supply.

Roslyn's fingers clawed at Fianna's hands, leaving scratches with her finger nails but the former queen didn't even notice as only tightened her hold.

It was over in about a minute, Roslyn's flailing body was falling limp and her struggles decreased significantly until she stopped altogether. Her eyes were wide open, dead and unblinking and Fianna finally removed her hands.

Fianna Bua was a warrior, but this was by far the most gruesome and horrific murder she had ever committed.

She surprised herself by how little she cared, her gaze trailing over the dead girl's face momentarily before a whimper from the dying animal next to her had awoken her from her daze.

Fianna clambered off of Roslyn and fell to her knees next to Chroi, a sob ripping through her throat as her hands desperately tried to cover the open wound. It was pointless she knew, his breaths were laboured and he wasn't able to get up.

Her sobs echoed around the cell room as she buried her face into his fur, guilt and loss filling her and she didn't know how her heart could possibly break twice in a week. She waited for a few minutes, not caring if the guards were coming for her because she wasn't going to leave him now.

Eventually, Chroi passed away. Even still, Fianna couldn't bear to tear herself away until Grey Wind began to tug at her dress. Reluctantly, she stood up and forced herself away from the wolfhound so she could make her escape.

And as she left, Grey Wind quickly running ahead to scout for guards that were surely coming for her by now, Fianna swore to herself she would never get attached to anyone or anything ever again.

* * *

 _Robb_

The man, although Robb was altogether unsure of his name and wasn't bothered in asking, had settled him down in a different room than before with a cup of hot milk.

Robb didn't say anything, rather waited for Ramsay to speak. He searched his mind for Fianna and his last memory of her, which he thinks was a kiss they shared after Edmure's wedding. Everything was fuzzy after that, he wasn't sure what had happened to either of them and he wasn't even sure if the blood soaked ground was the blood of his own family. But he had a feeling this man knew, so he was going to listen anyway.

"My father is Lord of the Dreadfort, we travelled here for Edmure Tully's wedding," Ramsay began, "we arrived some time after Robb and Fianna did, although by that stage you were already in love with her."

"But I am Robb Stark, Fianna is my wife," Robb insisted, looking at Ramsay in annoyance.

"No, you're not," Ramsay shook his head, "your name is Ike Rivers. You're the baseborn son of Herald Clearwater, the kennel master here at the Twins. When he passed, you were his only heir and you were allowed to take over his job. You fell for Fianna Stark the second you saw her arrive and in your head you drew up this elaborate fantasy that you and her were together, but it would never happen. She was married to the King, and a Lady in her own right.

"You made a pass at her, and when she refused you, you poisoned the wine at the wedding feast. They're calling it the Red Wedding."

"You're trying to fool me," Robb grunted before standing up, his posture stiff, "I have a life's worth of memory, there is no way I could have made it all up."

"Tell me. Do you ever remember an instant where poor Fianna Stark was in her bed alone at night until a man entered her room and resorted to attempting to rape her?"

Yes, Robb remembered that night extremely well. It brought Fianna and him closer together. He chose not to answer Ramsay, but the boy could see it on his face anyway.

"That was you, Ike."

"No, she killed her assailant and it wasn't me. I comforted her that night over it-"

"No, Robb comforted her while you ran like a coward after she screamed for help," Ramsay himself seemed to grow annoyed that Robb refused to accept this.

"I AM ROBB!" Robb broke into a shout, his fists balling up as he prepared to either run again or attack Ramsay.

"Tell me then!" Ramsay stood up and stalked across the room, pulling a blanket down off of a mirror Robb wasn't aware was being hidden from his view. "Does Robb Stark look like that?!"

Robb rolled his eyes in frustration and stepped forward to leave until the figure in the reflection caught his eye. His breath hitched as he immediately stomped over, his eyes roaming over the figure. He touched his cheek and the person in the reflection mirrored his actions, confirming the belief that it was him.

But it wasn't him. Where Robb's hair fell in luscious Tully red locks, it was now chopped short, almost bald save for the closely shaved hair surrounding his scalp. Hair that was black in colour, not brown with a red tinge from what he could see.

Stubble that had decorated his cheeks he refused to shave because Fianna would lovingly roam her fingers over it and he would rub his cheek against hers to annoy her, was now completely gone. Showcasing gaunt cheekbones in its absence.

A cut stretched across his cheekbone that more than likely would scar. He even looked thinner, the only thing that Robb was holding onto was the bright blue of his eyes. That hadn't changed.

"You see, Ike? You're not Robb Stark-"

"I'm still me..." he insisted, his voice small and feeble and filled with confusion

"You never were you," Ramsay squeezed his shoulder in reassurance before stepping backwards to grab Robb's cup. Robb never lifted his eyes from his reflection, perhaps if he had he'd have noticed Ramsay slipping a concoction into his drink.

Basilik's blood. A favourite of his, just enough to mess with his mentality, not enough to send him into a fit of violence.

Handing Robb the cup and watching him sip slowly on it, Ramsay couldn't help the smirk lifting up his lips.

* * *

 _Fianna_

She scoured the halls quickly, Grey Wind on high alert. He was leading her instead of her leading him, she was assuming he was taking her towards the exit he entered by.

Fianna was pushing aside her grief and shutting off all of her thought processes, so perhaps it was a good thing that Grey Wind was taking charge. Although his behaviour was making her somewhat suspicious, every now and then he'd let out a small whimper. Perhaps it was because of Chroi.

Her suspicions were thwarted however when Chroi, instead of leading her to an exit, darted towards a door with an agenda in mind. It was a closed door, probably leading to a chamber of some sort, and Grey Wind was whining and scratching against it. His nose twitched repeatedly as he was smelling the people on the other side.

"Grey Wind, please," she whispered, knowing he would hear her as Fianna went further down the hall in search for a way out.

When she turned around and noticed he still wouldn't move, tears of panic rose to her eyes again. Chroi's death wouldn't be for nothing, she would not be sent back to a cell or even worse, she was imprisoned last time without offence. This time she had killed the favourite daughter of Walder Frey.

"Grey Wind," she begged quietly, the prospect of having to escape alone and defenceless looming over her. Grey Wind looked up in response, his ears flattened against his head in what appeared to be sadness.

Sensing Fianna's heightened distress, he looked back at the door once more before reluctantly moving away and back towards her. His master was so close to him, only a door separating them both, but Grey Wind didn't have to be human to sense that Fianna needed him more at that moment. Robb would have wanted Grey Wind to protect her first.

Eventually, with little effort, they found the exit to the outdoors. Miraculously no guards were encountered, save for the trail of dead bodies Grey Wind had left littered around - most likely having ripped their throats out deep enough to sever their vocal chords and prevent them from screaming.

It was easy. Too easy. The gate out of the Twins was even lowered. This made her feel eerie and paranoid, but perhaps the Gods had decided she had lost too much that to dangle an escape in front of her and take it away so abruptly would be a step too far in terms of cruelty.

It had been all but a week, and she had lost her husband, her wolfhound, her good mother and the only father figure left in her life. And very nearly her child.

Stepping over the threshold to the green grass the Freys didn't own, Fianna was eager to leave the horror behind her, and wasted no time in running towards the tree line. She was going home, finally.

* * *

 **Oh my god is it bad I cried writing Chroi's death? I was so calm writing the red wedding but killing a dog oh my GOD it broke me. It brought my mood down so much but it had to be done!**

 **On a side note, basilik's blood is a genuine poison in GoT that sends those who ingest it insane.**

 **Now to elaborate on Chroi's death, my view on it is that the pets in GoT world are directly connected to their owner. For example with the Stark family, the mother direwolf was killed and so was the Stark parents, Robb died and so did Grey Wind, Arya is alive and so is Nymeria, the same with Jon and Ghost, Shaggydog died and then so did Rickon, Summer died and essentially Bran died and became the Three Eyed Raven. Lady died in season one so I think, well I theorise, that Sansa may die too. So that is why Grey Wind survived here, as did Chroi for a short time. But Chroi dying symbolises a part of Fianna dying, rather than the physical version. Because I'll warn you now, Fianna's character is going to get extremely dark!Fianna from here on out.**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, it means the world to me!**

 **angelicedg - and thank you so much for reviewing! I hope you liked this chapter!**

 **reaganrose115- *cries with you***

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967 - thank you so much! And your wish is my command!**

 **Shannan - I COULD NEVER TAKE AWAY HIS DINKY WINKY. HE NEEDS IT TO MAKE A BIG OL BUA-STARK CLAN. I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for reviewing as always! xx**


	30. (XXIX) Family Reunions

_Song: The North Remembers by Ramin Djawadi_

 _Fianna_

Fianna Stark didn't think she had ever been so cold in her entire life, it was like an ice had settled around her body and refused to melt. Even if the weather hadn't been noticeably cooler these last few months, her thin dress and lack of a cloak would have left her shivering none the less.

Routinely, Fianna would stop mid-walk to sit down and cuddle against Grey Wind's fur for warmth. But she could never stop in one place too long, lest the Freys were looking for her. As unfortunate as her situation was, she was so grateful to have Robb's direwolf along with her, to protect her and to serve as a reminder of her deceased husband.

She followed the navigation skills instilled in her since birth and headed north, albeit she wouldn't get far until she reached a recognisable town or road.

The bone chilling coldness was accompanied by hunger and thirst, her stomach growled often and her lips were dry and cracked. Fianna would stop to collect berries she knew to be safe, but the majority had been poisonous and those that weren't were not filling whatsoever. She could have Grey Wind hunt for them and cook the meat he would return with, but smoke from a fire would give away her position.

Her skin was marked in places by branches that scraped her skin when she shoved through the forest, and her hair was dishevelled and knotted. Even her shoes were beginning to become worn and tatty and they were only new, the dress she wore to the infamous wedding still covered her body like a physical reminder of the horrors it witnessed.

Still, Fianna persevered. Even in the wake of possible starvation, dehydration and hypothermia, she couldn't stop until she reached a town where she could steal items that were needed, and a horse if lucky.

After about two days of walking, with nothing but her mind and a mute direwolf to keep her company, she heard the distinct sound of lapping water nearby. Her neck almost broke with how quickly her head turned to find the source, as she turned off the course to the North to find the source of water.

She stumbled across a wide river, which she knew had to have been the Trident. She realised she was probably close by this entire time, and cursed herself for not finding it sooner.

Not caring about the fact that everything from clothes being washed to bodies being dumped were carried out in this river, Fianna got down on two knees and cupped water into her hands. Quickly, she brought it up to her lips and slurped. She repeated this action several times until she felt hydrated enough, with Grey Wind following and dipping his muzzle into the stream.

When she was quenched enough, she stood up again and was about to brush the dirt off her knees, as useless as that was because she was dirty enough, until something in the river caught her eye.

Fianna squinted at the upcoming stream as a dark mass began to appear over the small hill. She waited as it came closer and closer, interested to see what it was.

And then she saw the red of Catelyn Tully's hair, and figured it out.

Vomit threatened to come up her throat and out her mouth, the water spewing back up after she had just drank river water that the body of Catelyn Tully was floating in.

Pushing aside her disgust, she desperately scrambled around for a branch long enough and when found, she stretched forward over the river bank and tried to catch her body.

Tears threatened to rise at her eyes, Catelyn's cold dead eyes were open and staring blankly into the sky. What was more startling though, was the deep slit in her neck that stretched from ear to ear.

When the end of the branch finally caught her clothes, she began to drag Catelyn back onto the shore, wading her body through the gentle river waters.

Catelyn was close enough for Fianna to grab onto and physically haul onto the river bank. Her stomach turned at the smell of her decaying body, but she couldn't stop now.

Catelyn Stark had hated her for so long, but when they had gotten over their differences, she was practically a mother figure to her. Technically, she was her good mother.

The woman had made her mistakes, including hiding Robb's betrothal from them, striking Fianna and practically forcing her to leave Robb's camp which subsequently led to the death of her men.

But in the end, Catelyn had done it all because she loved her family. Too much, one would say. And she lost her life because of it. Fianna knew she deserved a proper burial.

She remembered from Hoster Tully's funeral how the Tully family handled funerals. Fianna worshipped the Old Gods of the Forest, therefore her father and mother were buried in the ground. But Tully's worshipped the seven and believed the Trident river carried life.

But Hoster Tully was desecrated inside a boat, which Fianna didn't have and wouldn't have unless she stole one.

She made a split decision at that second to follow the river, for surely there would be a town somewhere along the stream. Towns were always built near rivers for a water supply. With the help of Grey Wind, Fianna dragged Catelyn to an opening at the bottom of a tree and tried to hide her inside until she came back.

Setting off again, she walked much faster than before, eager not to let Catelyn's spirit be unrested for too long with tears threatening to spill all the while.

* * *

Within a few hours, Fianna stumbled upon a town settled on the river. Night was falling now, which would make this a much easier venture. She stuck to the shadows so she wouldn't stand out in her red dress, hiding from the townspeople and looking for rations to steal.

Fianna had forced Grey Wind to remain outside the town to also avoid rousing suspicion. A dog she could get away with, but not a giant direwolf.

She came across a small courtyard where two men were practising sword fighting, deciding that they were distracted enough, Fianna crept forward and stole a cloak one of the men had strewn over a nearby barrel.

She quickly slipped it on and pulled the hood up to cover her head before leaving again, picking up the basket they held their arrows in and tossing them out of it gently to not make a rustle. She kept the basket, it would be useful for carrying food should she find some.

After some walking, the next thing she found was a small market which was now in the process of being closed up for the day. This would be trickier, as it was more than one person. She would need a distraction.

Weaving in and out between buildings, she waited until she was a bit away before letting out a bloodcurdling scream.

"HELP! MY CHILD! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP!" She screeched at the top of her lungs, before stepping back behind a wall until a flurry of people sped past her who she recognised as the merchants.

After a second she stuck her head around the corner and when she saw nobody else was coming, Fianna ran down the alleyway towards the abandoned food.

She would have felt bad, but they were better off than her at that current moment. It was this, or death.

She piled her basket full of fruits, leaving the meat behind as it wasn't going to be eaten raw, and stole a plain brown dress that was also on sale. It was horribly itchy and of poor quality, but it was much more inconspicuous and better than the horrible red dress that was stained with too many memories.

When she heard a crowd of footsteps heading her way, she dashed off again in the opposite direction, hauling her basket with her.

After changing in another deserted alleyway and fetching Grey Wind, this time she headed straight for the river. There would be some small boats there, and she would need two. One for Catelyn and one for herself to get home. Thankfully, Baelfort rested at the very end of the Trident river. So she wouldn't need to walk any longer.

Sneaking up to the docks at the river, there was one man there tasked with keeping watch over the docked boats. In a move that she actually felt some guilt over, Fianna brought a stray bucket down over his head, effectively knocking him out.

Quickly she rushed forward and untied a boat from the dock, using that rope to tie it to another boat and then untying that so they were free. Fianna hopped into the boat before it could get away and Grey Wind leaped to join her. Thankfully, the small wooden boats weren't heavy enough, so the mounted oars she used to retreat down the river were enough.

In a third of the time it took to walk, Fianna had reached the area she remembered she left Catelyn's body. Steering her oar into the river bed until she neared the dirt.

Fianna stepped off of the boat when it reached dry land and attempted to haul it back a bit so it wouldn't drift away, but she was too weak to do so. So Grey Wind stepped forward and hauled as much as he could with his teeth wrapped around the conjoining rope.

With that done, Fianna rushed back to Catelyn and began to tug her out of the hiding space. Her face grimaced at the stench of death as she dragged her by the feet to the boats.

Unable to hold it in, she let out a small sob as she desperately dragged the body of her good mother over dirt and rocks. Fianna was losing her mind, she could feel it. And one traumatising moment after another was only adding to it.

When she finally lugged her to the riverside, in a stomach turning moment, she was forced to lift Catelyn's ever thin and frail body up and into the boat. When her body landed inside with a thud, Fianna whipped around and threw up all the food she had managed to eat on the boat ride down.

Her throat stung and her tears were flooding freely, the smell of death was overwhelming and the situation was even more so.

Fianna turned and grabbed two pieces of flint rock, eager to get this over and done with. She retrieved the lantern oil she had salvaged from her ransacking in the town and poured it over Catelyn's body and the boat. Expertly remembering the wilderness training her father had instilled in her, she beat the two pieces of flint together until small sparks fell on the oil on Catelyn's clothing and caught fire.

Fire would catch quickly, she knew. So she was forced to react quickly. Placing both feet on the side of the boat as she sat down, she pushed it off the river bank until it went back into the water and started to carry itself downstream.

Fianna sat for a moment and watched, the burning flames lit up the dark forests and lifted her spirits slightly. Now Catelyn Stark would rest easy, and when she saw her again, she would be in a better place with Ned and Robb.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

The entire castle was in mourning, the beloved little girl they had grown to love had been lost. Her father had died three years prior, which was a fresh enough wound for them all. But now, the darling little Lady who would roam the castle grounds with dirt on her cheeks, singing Bua songs that were too inappropriate for a lady to even know, was slaughtered in such a brutal manner. Many dubbed it "the death of innocence".

Tiernan was seated in Fianna's... his solar, looking over a letter he had received in disgust. It was from Roose Bolton, the traitorous bastard had now been named the new Warden of the North. Tiernan didn't think that reward was worth the lives of his cousin and her husband.

Just as searing as the pain of losing his only remaining family member was, now this was being dangled in his face.

 ** _Addressed for Tiernan Brady,_**

 ** _I must extend my apologies for your loss, as traitorous and treasonous Fianna Bua was to the Baratheon crown, she was family to you. And I understand the binds and loyalty one feels toward family._**

 ** _However the events of the Red Wedding have passed, and as Warden of the North, all Northern households are required to come to Winterfell and pledge fealty to me two moons from now._**

 ** _You may be wondering why you received a personalised letter, and for that I must give extenuating circumstances as my excuse. The Bua family have been loyal servants to the North for centuries and a strong household, I do not deem it necessary for Baelfort to fall because of the actions of its Lady._**

 ** _As I am certain you're aware, there are no more Bua family members to inherit Baelfort and continue the family line. So for you, I extend a courteous offer._**

 ** _I, Roose Bolton, Lord of the Dreadfort and Winterfell and Warden in the North, hereby solemnly promise to allow you to renounce your father's house name of Brady, in favour of your mother's. Thus, you will be appointed as Lord of Baelfort under the name of Tiernan Bua._**

 ** _I feel it important to note that this offer will only be allowed should you pledge fealty to me in the aforementioned time._**

 ** _Roose Bolton, Warden of the North_**

He was so angry he was certain a hole would burn in his stomach. Bile was rising in his throat, at Roose Bolton and at himself for actually considering it. He has heard whispers that the other Northern houses were considering pledging fealty to Roose, which had infuriated him. But without Robb and Fianna, there was no face to the Northern rebellion. They didn't have a leader they could rally behind.

The idea of being a Bua, finally after years of wishing it, was now being offered on a silver platter. Not only that, but Baelfort as well. Fianna would flay him alive if he had accepted, but Fianna wasn't here any more, Tiernan had to think of the wellbeing of his men, the inhabitants of Baelfort and of little Rickon Stark.

There was no way he could rebel against the North alone.

Deciding to take a walk to think over his options, he made his way slowly across the courtyard. The sounds of Rickon frustratedly yelling when he missed the target again filled his ears, and he looked over just as Osha was reprimanding him, Shaggydog sitting bored nearby.

After weeks of trying to train Rickon, Osha had finally lost her temper and claimed she could teach Rickon herself instead.

He stood for a moment, a small smile on his face as Rickon's tantrums offered a brief respite from the conflicting thoughts he was mulling over.

Snapping him out of his was revere, was Shaggydog. Out of nowhere and seemingly unprovoked, Shaggydog jumped to stand on all four paws and started to howl.

The direwolf went sprinting towards the walls of Baelfort as if he was searching for an exit, but Tiernan had made sure all exits and entrances were entirely sealed.

His face dropped when he suddenly had the thought that an attack was imminent, sprinting towards the guard tower and shouting up at the two that were stationed there.

"What do you see?!"

"Nothing, my lord!" They replied back nervously as Tiernan swiftly bounded up the ladder to the top of the wall.

He rushed towards the edge when he reached the top, peering out desperately to see if anyone was incoming. After waiting for a minute, he finally saw a small shadow in the centre of the River Trident that was heading for the small lake next to Baelfort.

"There," he pointed out, "what is that?"

"I think it's a boat, my lord."

"It could be a trap," he anxiously fretted, "ARCHERS! GET READY!"

Ever since the siege of Baelfort by the Greyjoys, Tiernan made sure that five archers were positioned at the wall at all times. They were already ready when they drew out their bow and positioned an arrow on it.

"Don't let loose until I say!"

He squinted his eyes as he tried to make out what was incoming, Shaggydog's howls were cutting through him and he was starting to get frustrated. Until another howl, coming from the river, started to respond.

The two sounded eerily similar, which could only mean that the one responding had to be a direwolf as well.

"My Lord?" An archer asked impatiently, Tiernan cutting him off by holding his hand up.

"Wait," he murmured, a new theory dawning over him. As the boat neared closer and closer, he could start to make out its inhabitants, a small hunched over figure and a large grey mass, which he assumed to be the direwolf.

"There's no way," he whispered before letting out a shout, "RAISE THE GATES!"

The gatekeepers looked over in confusion, but when Tiernan barked the same command they quickly started to raise the protective gates sealing them all in.

Tiernan began to rush back down the ladder, taking two steps at a time before jumping off when he was close enough to the ground. He sprinted towards the gates as they slowly lifted up from the ground. Impatiently, he crouched down when they lifted enough and left the safety of Baelfort just as the boat was pulling into the lake.

The occupant began to row then, rowing the boat over to the banks. Their hood was pulled over their head and hiding their face, making it impossible to identify them.

Following Tiernan, was Shaggydog. Rickon tried to follow too but Osha held him well back. A few of the guards flooded out of the gates too to protect their lord.

When the boat was finally pulled in, the figure and the giant direwolf descended from the boat onto the ground. Without wasting time, the direwolf went hurtling forward towards Shaggydog. When the two met, they sniffed each other, rubbing the sides of their bodies against each other in greeting and what looked to be reconciliation.

But Tiernan's eyes were fixed on the figure as they lifted their hands up to their hood and took it down.

A collective gasp sounded out across the small crowd when Fianna Stark was revealed to them. She was dirty, dishevelled and as pale as can be. She looked thinner and more gaunt, save for the giant belly she was carrying under her dress. What was most striking was the expression on her face, more specifically her eyes. Fianna wasn't dead after all, but she looked like she could have been.

"Fianna," Tiernan whispered, his feet carried him forward without realising it, and he was heading towards her. But before he could even reach her, his cousin's exhaustion and trauma had become too overwhelming, as the world turned black for her and she collapsed backwards onto the ground.

* * *

 **FINALLY WROTE THIS**

 **It took me a little longer to write this one, partially from writers block and partially because I'm so busy. At this stage in the book, it reminds me a lot of the build up to the red wedding, where I'm writing stuff that needs to happen but I just wanna get to the good, exciting stuff I have planned, again.**

 **No Robb in this chapter, but he will be back soon I promise. And for those of you wondering why Roose Bolton didn't mention Fianna being captive in his letter, it's because she escaped. And at this point Fianna has been missing from the Twins for approximately a week and a half.**

 **I had to give Catelyn the send off she deserved, I had this image the entire time of Fianna being the one to do it after escaping and I'm glad that I done it. I don't intend on just killing her off and forgetting her.**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**

 **reaganrose115- literally same my poor babies**

 **angelicedg - I've got a lot more planned for her before she finds Robb, she's got revenge and other people to save first and that's all I'll say on that ;)**

 **Guest- I decided to go the psychological route because I didn't think Roose would approve and frankly I don't wanna physically torture him like that! You're definitely right about Grey Wind being more bonded to Fianna because she's pregnant by the way! That's exactly what I was thinking of when Grey Wind left Robb to go with Fianna to protect her. As for alliances, she's definitely gonna make friends but I think we'll keep her in the North for now, although if she and Dany did team up that would be the most badass thing ever. I loved your review thank you so much for writing it!**

 **Shannan - I KNOW! It broke my heart to take away Chroi but it'll all play a part of her character development from now on, even though I did cry when I wrote it! Even though I wrote it, I also found it really sad how they were so close to being reunited but she was so driven to get away that she didn't even know. Thanks for pointing out the typo by the way, I completely miss these sort of things sometimes! Thank you so much for reviewing as always!**

 **ZabuzasGirl - I hope you enjoyed this one!**

 **Crystal-wolf-Guardain-967 - Thank you so so much! They will see each other again one day, I can promise that! And I hope you enjoyed this chapter! xx**


	31. (XXX) Deteriorating Minds

_Ramsay_

"How's my little pet today?" He asked Jardin, one of his most trusted men. He had enlisted the older man's help for what he dubbed, 'the breakdown of Robb Stark'.

The initial phase of his plan, which was to install the seed of doubt and start dosing Robb with Basilik's blood, a favourite poison of his known to engulf those who ingest it regularly with madness.

Ramsay's next course of action was to show that others too believed that he had killed the King and Queen, which he tried to convey by commanding a garrison of his men to "find" Ike, and imprison him for treason, awaiting trial. This was successful, and now Robb was being held prisoner in the cells beneath the Twins.

Now for the next part, which would require some level of acting skill. Fortunately for him, Ramsay knew just how to get broken men to put their trust in him. Theon was an excellent example of that.

"He's fidgeting, pacing his cell, scratching his head. Those cups of _water_ you've been sneaking in to give him seem to be doing something, and it's not hydrating," Jardin smirked as he spoke. It seemed to be a running trait in the Bolton men, a deceitfulness and complete lack of humanity.

"Perhaps he's thirsty again then, hm?" Ramsay curled his lips up in his signature smile, one that oozed with evil. He was clutching a cup in hand as he spoke with Jardin, who was tasked with manning the door to the cells.

Ever since that dreaded Fianna Bua had somehow managed to escape, Ramsay ensured that two guards were kept outside Robb's room at all times. They were still at the Twins, to Ramsay's contempt, so it was plausible that Fianna was waiting in the tree line for a chance to free her estranged husband any day. But he had taken measures to ensure she wouldn't have seen him alive either way, that no one would have. When arrested, a sack had been tugged over his head to prevent recognition. The only men who saw him in his cell were Bolton men, and Ramsay himself.

Ramsay rounded a corner and nodded with his head for the one of the guards to leave, unbeknownst to the cell occupant. Robb was led to believe that Ramsay came to him when one of the two guards was taking a small break from guarding him, and that the other who always remained was paid handsomely by Ramsay for allowing him to visit Ike.

Appearing at the cell, which had an open wall with bars striping it (since Fianna's escape, the closed off cells with doors were no longer allowed to be used). Needless to say, Walder Frey had been absolutely merciless with the words spoken of Fianna Bua after learning she killed his favourite daughter.

"Hello, Ike," Ramsay greeted in a low voice, faking a pitiful expression upon seeing the former King who once stood tall and mighty, cower in the corner with his head in his hands.

At his voice, Ike looked up and began to scamper towards Ramsay on his hands and knees. Without a word, he reached through and greedily tore the cup from his grasp, slowly beginning to gulp down the contents.

"How are you feeling?" Ramsay enquired, setting down the empty cup after Ike returned it to him, void of its original contents.

"You have to get me out of here, it wasn't me," he blabbered on, eyes bloodshot and teary.

"Ah ah," Ramsay held a finger up, "what did I say?"

Robb hesitated for a moment before resigning with a sigh, "okay, but I wasn't me when I done those... _things._ "

"What things, Ike?" Ramsay pressed, perhaps a little too far as Robb began to shake his head and back away. "It's okay, you'll admit it some day."

"Am I going to have a trial?" He asked, his voice gruff and raspy from his harsh condition, a shadow of the man he used to be.

"You will have a trial yes, the Freys had sworn allegiance to House Stark you know? And you murdered the King and Queen under Lord Walder's protection. He is furious with you, I hear."

Inching forward until his face was right up against the metal bars, Robb pleaded with Ramsay.

"Please, you have to get me out of here!" He whisper-shouted desperately.

"I don't know..." he toyed with him, there was obviously never going to be a trial. But Ramsay had wanted to push Robb to a degree of desperateness that he would be forced to rely totally and completely on him.

"Please, I'll give you anything!"

Ramsay pretended to mull it over more, ensuring he physically looked as if he was having an internal debate.

"I'll tell you what," he started, shuffling about until he was standing and cowering over Robb, "if you show me that you're serious about recovering from your ways by admitting what you did, I'll try to get you out of here."

With that, he left. Leaving Robb alone with his muddled thoughts.

He retreated back into the corner after a while, not wanting to be any closer to the guards than he had to be. A sentence had formed in his mind, one that he felt the need to mutter over and over again.

" _It's treason to kill your Queen._ "

* * *

 _Fianna_

She slept for two days and two nights. The maesters tended to her, Tiernan fretted over her and still, it took the exhausted lady two full days to awaken.

When she finally did, it was in the comfort of her bed. For a brief moment, she considered that it was all a dream. That she never met Robb, never became the Queen of the North for a short time, didn't lose her husband so brutally. But then she'd shift slightly and remember the large mound of her stomach holding her small child inside, and realise that it wasn't all a dream. That she genuinely hadn't been in her own bed for years now.

The sound of a creaking door rang through the room, Fianna swung up in bed in a panic only to see two small heads poke through the crack in the doorway. When they had realised the lady was finally awake, they gasped in shock and ran off.

Curious children, it had to have been.

Fianna Stark swung her legs over the side of her bed and stepped onto the floor, swaying for a moment due to laying down so long. She felt more rested than she had in months, but mentally, her mind was still uneasy.

Someone had dressed her in nightclothes, the raggedy, brown dress she had stolen was long gone. Fianna waddled over to the chest where all her old clothes were being held, but upon opening them and sifting her hand through them with a sense of melancholy, she realised these dresses wouldn't fit her now.

A knock sounded at the door, after clearing her throat Fianna called out for the guest to come inside.

It had been about two years since Fianna last lay eyes on her cousin, and Tiernan Brady had aged from a playful teenage boy to a hardened man.

"Fianna," he greeted after a moments silence, when she didn't respond right away, he moved forward and wrapped her in a tight hug, being careful not to touch her swollen belly.

"Tiernan," she replied with a hoarse voice, barely returning his hug. This confused him, but he tried to put it down to her tiredness and trauma.

Tiernan led her over to sit on the bed next to him so they could talk. He looked over her expression, a feeling of sadness and pity overwhelming him. She looked a shadow of the woman she once was. The last time he saw her, she was healthy, her cheeks were red, her eyes were bright as she spoke of the man she had found herself in love with. Now, her cheeks were sallow, the rosiness in her skin and the twinkle to her eye were long gone. Her jaw was set with a fierceness he didn't want to ever cross.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"How do you think I'm feeling?" She replied drily, he nodded his head embarrassed for asking.

"Fianna, I know you need time to build your strength back up but I need to know. What happened..?"

Fianna paused for a moment, her grey eyes looking down to her lap as she picked at her fingers.

"Robb's dead," was all she said.

"But you're alive."

"They wanted me alive."

"Why?"

"For this," she ran her shaky hand down the middle of her stomach, it was all Tiernan needed to hear to know their intentions.

"The maesters say you should be almost ready to give birth."

"No," her brows furrowed in confusion, "I haven't been pregnant that long."

"Oh... perhaps you just have a fat child, hm?" He joked, but she didn't laugh. The old Fianna would have laughed.

"How did you escape?" He probed when silence fell again.

"I don't want to talk about it."

What more could he have said to that? To force her to talk would be cruelty.

"How many men do we have at hand and how many are stationed at the wall?" Tiernan's head shot up at her last words, surely this would be the least of her concern by now?

"We have four hundred in total, and five along each side of the wall at any given time," he informed her, slipping back into his Tiernan the Lord persona.

"We need more men, and I want eight at the wall from now on," she commanded, causing him to scoff.

"Where do you plan on getting those men? And why do you need them?"

"If Roose Bolton learns I have made it home, he will come for us. He will come for my child, and I'm not letting that happen," she trailed over to her chest again, rifling through it until she found a dress that was somewhat loose, but the laces would still need to be let out more than when she usually wore it.

"How do you propose we are going to get these men?"

"Send a raven to all the Northern houses bar the Bolton's and Winterfell. Tell them I request a meeting with each of the heads of the households and that they should come discretely."

"Fianna.. you..." he began, nervous to tell her what was in his mind. She ignored his ramblings and continued to get dressed behind her divide. "You're not the head of this household any more."

He could see by the shadow showing through the thin fabric of the divide that she froze at his words. A moment later, she finished off dressing herself and rounded around to see her cousin. The look on her face was absolutely fearsome.

"What did you just say to me?" She asked, her voice was that kind of eerily calm, like that before a storm.

"I was just saying, you married Fianna. You're not a Bua any longer-"

"And you never _were_ a Bua, Tiernan," she spit out, her words cutting him.

"I-I know, but I've been the acting Lord here for years while you gallivanted across the South. The people here see me as their Lord-"

"And the people here would do well to remember who their true Lady is. You have served Baelfort well in my absence, of course I'm not including the time I had to return home to _save_ you. But I am here now, and I am the lady of Baelfort." Her breathing had quickened with the rising tension, her anger was palpable.

Fianna was always hot-headed, Tiernan knew well. But this was a whole new side of her who he didn't know, and frankly he wasn't sure if her ruling Baelfort at all was a good idea.

"You think you're better than me? Is that it?" She continued, stepping forward until she was closer to him in an intimidating move.

"Of course I don't, Fianna-"

Ignoring his words, she reached forward and drew his own sword from his scabbard, taking a few steps back so she could angle it towards him.

"Fianna! What in the name of the gods are you doing?!" He bellowed in shock, his eyes wide with surprise and slight fear.

"Go and find yourself a sword and we will see who deserves to be the Lord of Baelfort then!"

"I'm not going to fight! You're _pregnant_!"

"That changes nothing, you think I haven't killed men while pregnant?"

"You would kill me...?" His voice lowered considerably, feeling a small sense of betrayal towards his only remaining family member.

"I will kill anyone who stands in my way."

Tiernan conceded, slowly nodding his head to show he was giving the power of Baelfort to her. It wasn't fair, but he couldn't fight her even if his life depended on it. She was like his sister, the girl he grew up with. That was the difference between them he supposed, Fianna was losing her grip of reality.

* * *

When finally dressed and cleaned, Fianna made her way slowly downstairs. She was walking leisurely, despite being hungry, because it had been so long since she had seen her home. In truth, it didn't even feel like her home any more.

Upon arriving at the dining hall for dinner, which she had awoken in time for, the entire hall went quiet when she opened the door. All eyes in the room turned to look at their long lost lady, eagerly and full of gossip.

Fianna held her head high and trailed toward the front of the room where the top table was, Tiernan wasn't seated in the head chair or even the head table. Which was probably to show Fianna he wasn't on good terms enough to even sit with her.

When she finally sat down, the chatter in the room started to pick up again. Where she had once sat alongside her cousin and father, she now sat alone. But it was rather reflective really, because Fianna _was_ alone now.

When she had forced as much food as she could into her empty stomach, she was about to get up and escape the tense environment until a small figure approached her from the side. A tall woman loitered behind him.

He looked extremely familiar, but it wasn't until he grinned widely that Fianna recognised him.

"Rickon?" She asked in absolute confusion, gasping in surprise when he launched forward and wrapped his arms around the older lady tightly.

"Lady Fianna! I knew I'd see you again!" He exclaimed excitedly, hugging her so happily that Fianna couldn't help but melt and hug him back with equal force.

"How did you get here?" She asked in shock, pulling him back to look him over carefully.

"Tiernan took me here! He found Bran and I in the woods and took me here to be safe while Bran went towards the wall!"

"Wait," she stopped him, too many questions forming in her mind. "Bran is heading for the wall?"

"Yeah! Him and the Reeds are heading for the three eyed raven!"

Fianna didn't bother to ask, assuming it was the ramblings of a small child. Instead she just wrapped her arms around him again, thankful that he was here and that he was safe.

Over his shoulder, she caught eyes with Tiernan who sarcastically raised his cup in the air as if to say 'you're welcome'.

"Are you having a baby?" He asked suddenly, bringing her attention back to him.

"I am! You're going to be an uncle!" She told him, forcing her excitement. In truth, he looked so much like a younger version of Robb that it pained her to look upon him.

"Wow! Osha, I'm going to be an uncle!" He turned and called to the lady standing behind him.

Fianna stood up to greet the woman, plastering a small smile on her lips as she approached her.

"Hello, are you a Septa of Rickon's?" She asked politely. Or well, what she thought was polite. The woman seemed rather offended.

"A septa? Do I look like one of those old bags? 'M here to protect the little lord from the likes of your people," she spoke with a strong Northern accent, looking Fianna up and down with a sense of distaste. Fianna wondered if she was a wilding, the 'your people' comment giving her away.

"Well, we're glad to have you here."

Osha grunted in response and led Rickon back to their table, leaving Fianna alone once again. Instead of waiting to bear the humiliation much longer, Fianna retreated back to her chambers to lie down again.

Her back and feet were aching with her pregnant state, annoyingly so. As she lay down in her bed, she trailed her fingers down her stomach and spoke softly to the being inside of it.

"I'm trying here, I really am."

That night, even though she thought she'd never cry again - Fianna Stark fell asleep sobbing over the loss of her husband once again.

* * *

 ** **Poor Fianna and Robb! I did warn you Fianna would get pretty dark, I think it's interesting how she's losing her mind simultaneously with Robb, who's also going insane with the basilisks blood. It's only going to get worse from here on!****

 ** **I hope you all enjoyed and thanks to those that favourited, followed and reviewed!****

 ** **angelicedg- thank you so much! I can't wait for her to get revenge either aha x****

 ** **reaganrose115- I hope you enjoyed x****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - awww! Thank you much that means the world to me!****

 ** **purple-pygmy-puff16 - with Robb being held prisoner I couldn't bear to have Fianna held for longer than necessary! At least now she's at home and safe 3 I hope you enjoyed this chapter! x****

 ** **Guest1995 - I completely agree with you, Catelyn deserved a send off, she didn't deserve the ending she got and I'm so glad with writing this I was able to fulfil that. I know I couldn't bear killing off the direwolves! I cried every time one died in the show, so I was definitely not letting it happen here if I could help. This chapter wasn't as action packed but there's plenty more to come as I hope you'll like it!****

 ** **Shannan - I loved that so much too and I'm glad that you did. It would be nice to have Robb be the one to send her off, but in this case it had to be Fianna and I liked that she went to a lot of effort to let her rest. I love Osha as a character so it'll be interesting getting to write her now into the story for the next few seasons. I wonder what you'll think of Fianna after threatening Tiernan, but it's just the stress of her trauma getting to her she's gonna get darker as a character from now on! Thanks so much for always reviewing I look forward to hearing your opinions!****


	32. (XXXI) Queen in the North

_Song: Breaker of Chains by Ramin Djawadi (play from 2.20 onwards for that big moment at the end)_

 _Ramsay_

It took a full week for Robb Stark to break. A week that consisted of basilik's blood, scheming and convincing. Eventually, his mental state was worn enough that the reality Ramsay was posing was starting to seem genuine.

Like clockwork, he approached Robb's cage again. Plastering the same pitiful and concerned expression on his face as he always did, he kneeled down to be at eye level with Robb.

"Have you accepted the truth yet, Ike?" Ramsay asked. The former King in the North took a whole minute of inner debate before meeting Ramsay's gaze head on. His eyes hardened and his expression stony.

"I didn't do it. If I did, I wasn't me at the time. I'm not going to admit to that when I was clearly not myself," Ramsay was shocked and frustrated at what he was hearing. "I am myself now. And I know the person that I am, that person wouldn't harm anyone I loved. You obviously need me for something, or else you wouldn't offer me the chance for escape. So do yourself a favour, and let me out."

He was standing by the end of his speech, his face menacingly close to the bars. Ramsay was somewhat impressed by his revere, even in his condition and deteriorating mentality, he still held strong to his belief that those he loved he'd never harm.

With that, Ramsay had no other option but to shrug. Robb would never admit to killing Fianna, he would have to take him as he is.

Brandishing his sword, he turned swiftly and buried it into the belly of the guard watching Robb's cell. The guard was one of Ramsay's own men, but he had to keep the charade up in front of Robb.

Robb's jaw dropped in shock as the guard fell dead to the floor, glancing over just as Ramsay dug his hands into his pockets and rifled around until he found the key to the cell.

As quick as he could, he turned the key in the lock and beckoned Robb to exit the small cell, which he did with no hesitation.

"We'll have to go before the other guard comes back," Ramsay whispered in a hushed tone, taking the cloak off of his back and handing it to Robb so he could somewhat mask his appearance.

With that done, Ramsay crept down the hallway with Robb behind him every step. The next phase of his plan had been accomplished. Even if Robb wouldn't admit to killing Fianna and his own mother, he did admit there was a chance that he did in another state of mind. That doubt was enough for Ramsay to grow from.

With the King in the North at his side, he would accomplish much. But the biggest problem he'd have to conquer would require Reek's assistance.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Baelfort had never been so crowded.

It had taken a day for the ravens to reach each of their destinations, and a week after that for its recipients to arrive. The majority of houses turned up, but Fianna Stark didn't fail to notice that a small few didn't, the Karstarks, for example. She didn't doubt that Robb beheading Rickard was the cause of their absence.

She greeted each household warmly, offering shelter and food for their stay. There was enough room for each of the Lords brought, and the few men they brought with them were provided with an area for camp. This wasn't like when Robb had called his banners, this was a meeting to discuss the future of the North. Fianna doubted that these Lords had much men to spare anyway.

She requested that they all attend the grand hall for the subject of their invitation, a speech Fianna prepared over and over again in her mind, speaking it to herself when she couldn't sleep at night.

Fianna could no longer find dresses of her own that would fit, so while she waited for the seamstresses to make new ones, she was forced to settle for wearing breeches and a shirt. Few would take the little effort put forth in her appearance as an insult, but something told her the large stomach she carted around with her would quieten their whispers.

The Lords and Lady gathered and waited patiently for Fianna to appear, they were anxious. And also curious. Many of those in attendance had never seen the former Queen of the North, as for many, the head of their respective households had been butchered at war or in the Red Wedding. Leaving their duty to the next heir.

When she finally appeared, the whispers and murmurs hushed. All eyes turned to the Lady of Baelfort, immediately dropping their gaze to her very swollen front. Yes, it was obvious this was a matter that would require the presence of the Northern lords. And lady.

Fianna was beginning to get some life back into her appearance, her cheeks didn't hold the same grey pallor it did a week ago, and her face wasn't as sunken. But her grey eyes were just as cold and as troubled as they were when she returned.

She walked through the aisle in the centre of the hall until she reached the top, when she did, she turned slowly and faced the crowd, inhaling deeply.

Robb had always been the one for motivational speeches, after all, he had encouraged the entirety of the North to fight for him.

"My lords," she began after clearing her throat, she swiftly glanced over and met the eyes of the small and extremely young Lady of Bear Island, adding, "and lady. I am sure you are all curious as to why you are here."

"Is that Robb Stark's babe in your belly?" A man crudely called out, she recognised from his breastplate that he hailed from House Dustin.

"Yes it is, Lord Barbrey," she replied, gritting her teeth, protectively she cupped her hands underneath her bump.

"So you're telling us that you're carrying the King of the North's heir?" Lord Wyman Manderly was next to shout, furthering Fianna's irritation.

"Yes," she replied simply, continuing quickly before they could talk over her, "for those of you that have lost loved ones at the Red Wedding, I extend my apologies. I, too, am grieving-"

"I lost my father because of you and Robb Stark!" Smalljon Umber shouted in a rage, pushing Fianna's temper.

"And I lost my husband!" She roared back. "I watched my husband die! And then I was chained like a dog! They intended to use me until my baby was born and then dispose of me like a dead carcass! I fought my way bloodily out of that prison cell and trekked halfway across Westeros so I could come _home_. So yes, you have lost your father, and I am sorry for that. But I will not apologise for honouring a betrothal that was set into place by my, and his, father. The Bolton's and the Freys are our true enemies here."

"The war is over, Roose Bolton is the Warden of the North, Robb Stark is dead. Our armies are diminished, what is the true reason you have brought us here, Lady Fianna?" Henrick Mazin voiced, trying to be polite but sounding utterly exasperated all the same.

"The war is _not_ over. We cannot allow the Bolton's to win. They are but one family, if we all rise up we can beat them!"

"And what do you, a _woman,_ think you can do? Are you going to march on up to Roose Bolton and slap him across his cheeks?" The Lord of House Flint joked, causing a quiet eruption of laughter.

"No, but I will march down to you and slap you with my sword if you do not mind your tongue," she spoke in a deadpanned tone, sounding deadly. He didn't respond after that.

Tiernan cringed as he watched from the sidelines, Fianna was attempting to win them over and trying to get the war to rage on. But the Northern families were mourning their losses, the desire to fight was weaned out of them.

"Look," she started, fidgeting and looking down to her stomach, almost for reassurance. "I know that you are all in mourning. I know that your resources are dwindling, that you have little, if any, men to account for. But if you allow your family to die without reason so Roose Bolton could gain power, you are a shame to them. Smalljon Umber," she addressed him, causing his head to whip around, "I knew your father well. He was rather fond of me and fought valiantly. He was butchered at the Red Wedding. Yet here you sit and place blame on me instead of his true murderers."

Smalljon clenched his jaw, and after throwing Fianna a deadly glare, stood up and started to make his way toward the exit.

"I will not sit here and swallow insults from you, Fianna Bua. Whatever kindness my father dealt to you, was trampled on when your marriage caused his death. You and Robb Stark were not fit to rule," he called as he walked out, the door closing with a slam as he disappeared.

Fianna paused for a moment, completely unphased until she regarded the look of apprehension on the rest of the Lord's faces.

"Lord Patten," she turned next to the head of house Flint, "you, too, lost your father to the Red Wedding. Do you truly mean to sit there and make jokes when I intend to avenge his death?"

He swallowed hard, wrinkling his nose in distaste before standing up from his chair.

"Avenge what you may, _Lady_ Fianna, but you never were my Queen. And you never will be," he spat on the floor to add to the insult, before following Smalljon's suit and leaving.

The room filled with silence which Fianna did not want to occupy with her voice, her head falling down to look at her feet in defeat. It seemed to her that her efforts were in vain, the Lords had lost their will.

"My mother used to write to me often while she was at war," little Lady Lyanna Mormont spoke up, causing all eyes to turn to her. The girl was no more than ten, yet she spoke with a ferocity of a battle-hardened war veteran.

"I used to envy Fianna Bua," she continued, "my mother would praise her fighting and leadership skills. It was the only time in my life I wanted to be like a Queen." She stood up to address the rest of the room. "She stands there, carrying the heir to the North, and you all look upon her with distaste, throwing insults at her. Lady Fianna tells you she wants to avenge the death of your families, and you reject that?"

She ended her speech on a rhetorical note, her words giving the rest of the rooms occupants food for thought. Deciding she didn't need to say more, Lyanna sat back down contently, receiving a gratuitous nod from Fianna.

"Aye," Henrick Mazin was next to speak, standing up as Lyanna did, "the little lady speaks with the wisdom of Maege Mormont. We cannot allow the Bolton bastard to win, the North always has been and always will be ruled by a Stark."

"But the Starks are all gone," Robbett Glover asked confusedly, Henrick only smiled in response.

"No they're not," he said, in a swift movement, he drew his sword from his scabbard and pointed it directly at Fianna. More specifically, at her stomach. "That Lady there was Robb Stark's wife, she carries the heir to House Stark. For as long as that child lives, I will vow to protect it as House Mazin have done for centuries."

"The North can't be ruled by a child," Rodrik Forrester sounded out, contradicting his words he drew his sword as well, "but it can be ruled by a Queen."

Fianna's mouth dropped in surprise as the tip of his blade angled itself at her, the implications of his words dawned at her and her heart hammered in her chest.

"Aye!" Hatrick Hornwood rose and agreed, "none of you were there. None of you seen how much of our battle strategies were suggested by Fianna Stark. I never thought I'd bend my knee to a woman, but there's no one else I'd want to run the North now." He ripped his sword into the air and held it up high, letting out a single shout that would change the War of the Five Kings altogether, "the Queen of the North."

The rest of the Lords were quick to follow, including little Lyanna Mormont. Each held their swords high and said the words to solidify their claim.

This was lengths different to when Robb had been hailed King. There was no shouting, no chanting. The words were uttered once, the buzz of excitement had been replaced with a solemn mood. For when Robb was named King in the North, they had an army, they had hope. This time, they had lost so much it was hard to stay optimistic. But they were putting whatever remained of their hope in Fianna, the Queen they once distrusted.

Fianna looked around the room, shock overcoming her. Without hesitation, she looked to Tiernan as Robb had looked to her - for reassurance. But she had smiled when Robb was the one being hailed, Tiernan could only look back into her eyes with worry on his expression.

He didn't think Fianna was in the right state of mind to be a Queen. But that didn't change the fact that she was now, and the Northern Rebellion raged on.

* * *

 ** **A short chapter, but I feel the events make up for it.****

 ** **People will disagree with this I'm aware, but try to keep in mind that Fianna will be more of a Queen regent. They intend to allow her to rule until her heir is old enough. So it's not the same as when Robb or Jon was hailed King, but she will still have power none the less.****

 ** **And now, the fun begins. ;)****

 ** **starevolution1273 - IM SO EXCITED TOO, ESPECIALLY NOW SINCE SHES QUEEN REGENT SHE'LL GET TO COMMAND ARMIES AND GET HER HANDS BLOODY****

 ** **Guest1995 - I absolutely hate writing Robb POVs ever since the Red Wedding because theyre just going to be filled with sadness aghhh. That's why a lot of my chapters are now very Fianna-centric. The time will come eventually! If this was the show, their reunion would be a long bit away. But thankfully because this is a fanfic, time will move a lot quicker!****

 ** **Guest - You should be ready for a dark Fianna because she's coming ;) thank you and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!****

 ** **Shannan - I'm so happy with your review I feel like you understand my intentions, Tiernan cares for Fianna but he's always wanted Baelfort and he thought he had it finally. Fianna is so traumatised she's just grasping for any chance she can get where she can feel powerful again. And there might just be more than one, possibly. Thanks for reviewing as always and I hope you enjoyed this one x****

 ** **Guest - You're right, she has lost Baelfort and she even admitted that a few chapters ago she was giving it to Tiernan. But Fianna has went from having everything to having nothing, she wants to seize power over something in her life just to get some control back into her life, so she's retaking Baelfort whether she has the right to or not. It's kinda sad because both Fianna and Robb are losing a bit of themselves, it's a lot harder to write these chapters than before that's for sure!****

 ** **Reaganrose115- thanks so much! and thanks for reviewing 3****


	33. (XXXII) Line of Succession

_Song: Where's My Love by SYML_

 _Ramsay_

The amount of travelling ahead and behind Ramsay Bolton was enough to make his nostrils flare in annoyance. Having thus far travelled from the Twins back to the Dreadfort, he would then have to travel from the Dreadfort to Moat Cailin.

Needless to say, his ever-present anger was pushed to the limit today. Nothing that torturing Reek or playing with Ike's mind wouldn't fix, although.

His father had entrusted him with ridding Moat Cailin of the Iron Born, which presented a perfect opportunity to showcase how much of a benefit his breakdown of Theon Greyjoy's character would prove to be to their cause. Maybe then, his father would be less distrustful about leaving Robb Stark within his treatment. Or more appropriately named, mistreatment.

Unfortunately for him, Robb Stark was proving to be more of a difficult toy to bend than he thought. Even with the ingestion of basilisk blood, Robb continued to be weary of Ramsay. And when the poison did cause a haze to fill his mind, he still looked around with desperate eyes almost as if he thought Fianna was there with them.

It frustrated Ramsay even further because it showed that Robb still didn't believe Fianna was dead. Deep inside, he didn't believe it no matter what he said. It would be of no use to him, he'd need Robb to fully believe his old life was gone and fictional so he could become Ike.

After arriving, he casually strolled down the cold, slightly damp hallways of the Dreadfort, walls he was beginning to miss. Robb was at his side, two steps behind as a sign of respect. They twisted around the hallways until he finally reached a dilapidated and dark hallway in the furthest corner of the castle.

Opening a stray door, he gestured for Robb to look inside. The room was more fit for a prisoner than anyone, with a small slit in the wall for a window and a cold, eerie feeling to it. It contained one small bed. And it was where Robb would be sleeping for the next while.

"Sorry," he apologised falsely for the conditions of the room, "if I had given you one of our guest rooms, the servants would be suspicious."

Robb only nodded in response with a firm set to his jaw, he barely spoke to anyone. And when he did, it was short answers in a gruff voice.

Leaving him to it, Ramsay bit back a smile as he recalled that if Robb thought his conditions were bad, he wouldn't want to see that of his former best friend.

* * *

 _Fianna_

One hand settled on her massive belly, Fianna Stark sat at the table her own father once spent hours pouring over. Where the many men before her had tried to present plans for their respective ruling King or Warden in the North, here she was. The Queen in the North.

The room was half-filled with her new Lords, each of their opinions varied but they all shared one common thought, they named her Queen in the North for a reason. Some for hope, some for desperation. But all, for the North.

She slowly stood up to lean over the map-covered table, her swollen feet protesting at the movement. Much like Robb's, Fianna had pawns of the major houses carved, with larger pawns for the current ruling Kings. And queen.

Stannis Baratheon, Joffrey Baratheon, Balon Greyjoy and Fianna Stark.

"With respect, your grace, we don't have the resources to travel South again. And almost all of our men would protest to it," Henrick Mazin voiced with a kinder tone than most Northerners would fasten.

"I'm not concerned with the South," she murmured absently, "I don't want the Iron Throne. The North is in shambles, we have to build ourselves up. Not be kicked while we're down."

"But what of vengeance?" Medger Cerwyn retorted, a tone of offence underlined his voice.

"There will be vengeance, I can swear it to you. But for now, we have the Bolton's and the Iron Born to worry about. The Freys and the Lannisters will come later."

"We were foolish the first time around," she continued. "I won't be making the same mistakes again."

They were interrupted just as Lord Glover dramatically makes an appearance to the meeting he was noticeably absent from, Fianna swallowed harshly upon seeing that his hand was wrapped around the small shoulder of her young good brother.

"Your grace," he began, the rest of the room pointedly staring at little Rickon Stark with looks of confusion. "The last time I seen this little man was years ago. But I know a Stark when I see one. Why do you have the Kings brother roaming your castle?"

Fianna stayed quiet for a moment before slowly standing upright, cupping her hands underneath her stomach.

"I thought Rickon Stark was dead?" One Lord sounded out, the others quick to hum in agreement.

"No, Rickon and Bran Stark escaped from the Iron Born," she explained quickly before a seed of doubt could be placed in their minds. "We have been housing Rickon since Tiernan came across him, I'm sure you can understand this needs to be kept discrete."

"But he's the heir to the North," was stupidly asked. Fianna struggled to refrain from rolling her eyes.

"No, he's in the line to succession. The babe I have yet to birth is the heir," Fianna reprimanded, causing his cheeks to redden in shame.

After a while, the excitement died down. Now free to roam, Rickon joined Fianna at her side where she quietly pinched him for not staying in his chambers as he promised. She figured if he were old enough to deal with his father dying and a maniac coming and burning his home to the ground, he was old enough to listen to their meetings for a short while.

Although not quite old enough for Fianna to tell him that his brother and mother were dead. Not yet.

"Right now, our biggest concerns are the Boltons," she spoke as she reached over and lifted one of the two large Bolton pawns, placing one over Winterfell while it's twin sat as it always did at the Dreadfort.

"And the Iron Born," she added, nodding towards each of the Greyjoy pawns situated at the Iron Islands and Moat Cailin.

"Moat Cailin is the strongest battle position in Westeros, it'll be a nightmare trying to fight the Greyjoys when they're sitting pretty in the towers," Lord Dustin provided.

"What if we don't fight them?" Fianna suggested, "likely the Bolton's will see them as a threat as well, unless they've gotten word of our rebellion, the Iron Born are their biggest threat."

"So they'll take care of them for us," he realised, a smirk lighting up his features.

* * *

 _Reek_

The smell of human excrement had become something he was accustomed to. After all, Reek had gained his name for a reason. And it wasn't because he reeked of flowers.

His joints were often cracking and his muscles ached terribly from being held inside of the dog cage. But he didn't mind. He would have taken the rest of his life in that cage over dealing with Ramsay's torture.

He had heard passing people in the hallway talking of Ramsay's return earlier, but he had yet to visit Reek yet. Mercifully. What peeked his interest was the words he also heard spoken, sounding like Ramsay had found himself a 'new toy'.

Reek didn't know what that meant, nor did he care so long as he was left to peace and away from his master. He had never feared anything in life more than he feared Ramsay Bolton's wrath.

When the time came that Ramsay did visit, obvious by how excited the hounds had got at something he had yet to see, Reek pressed himself so tight to the wall it was almost painful. Trying to escape, or trying to hide.

"Ah Reek," Ramsay began in that condescending voice he always used when talking to Reek, "you've been such a loyal dog, staying in your cage and behaving."

Reek only nodded his head in response, which was more of a response to the nervous twitch in his body when he was around Ramsay.

"I had to go down to the Twins, there was such a mess to be dealt with," he continued, pacing the floor leisurely and holding his hands clasped at his back. "Robb Stark, his mother Catelyn and his wife Fianna are all dead."

At this, Theon's twitching stopped dead for a moment, as well did his breathing. He was unable to do anything but stare blankly down at his feet, and while he didn't say anything, the troubled look to his eyes was evident.

"H-how did they die?" He dared to ask, fearful of the answer. He wasn't Theon Greyjoy, he tried to tell himself. But he was always Robb's brother, nothing would ever change that.

"It was rather sad really," Ramsay spoke with sympathy so fake he didn't even try to hide his smirk, "an absolute madman was obsessed with poor Queen Fianna and poisoned everyone. They're calling it the Red Wedding."

At this, a physical reaction to the news took place in the form of his hands violently shaking.

"But it should hardly matter to you, should it?" He taunted, crouching down to be at eye level with Reek. "After all, you would have killed Robb Stark yourself had you the chance?"

Reek _still_ didn't respond, which only served to annoy Ramsay. Quickly growing bored of his little game, he stood up and decided to get to the real matter of his business.

Lifting the key from his back pocket, the Bolton bastard inserted a key into the hole by Reek's cage and unlocked it, opening the door wide. Despite the opportunity being there, Reek still refused to leave the cage, too shaken up by the news to do much of anything.

"Reek," he threatened, "you will leave this cage or I will force you."

Fearfully, Reek scampered outwards, holding back groans of pain as his muscles and joints finally stretched out.

"Now Reek," he placed a had on his shoulder tightly, "I need you to do something for me."

And as always, all Reek could do was nod.

* * *

 _Fianna_

With her head positively burned out from all the talk of battles and wars, Fianna decided to take a walk in the gardens inside of the Baelfort walls. With Grey Wind at her side, keeping her company.

Before war, she would often venture outside to the lake. But times were dangerous, she didn't know if the Bolton's knew she was even alive and safely home, never mind know she was being hailed as a Queen.

Ending up at small corner of the wall, she stopped at a fence that cordoned off some plant growth. The Wolfsbane patch.

Wolfsbane was something associated with the Buas, the poisonous substance was originally laced on arrow tips to kill wolves. The Bua sigil, a wolfhound, is known to hunt wolves as well. Not to mention, her ancestors were known for wickedly poisoning their enemies with it. Fianna herself had killed many of the Greyjoy men using it when she was forced to leave war and retake Baelfort.

Absently looking over the purple flowers that looked so innocent yet were so deadly, she didn't even notice the small figure approaching her from the side until he spoke.

"Fianna?" Rickon asked, tugging at her sleeve to catch her attention. He was growing taller by the day, and Fianna jumped from surprise at his sudden appearance.

"Yes, love, what is it?"

"I have a surprise for you!" He beamed up at her, radiating positivity and youth. It was then she noticed a small bag hanging at his side.

"Oh, a surprise!" She faked enthusiasm for his sake, moving forward to sit on a long log, set out in an area where they occasionally lit fires and partied.

"What is it then?" She asked, smiling at him as he followed after her, standing beside Fianna while he tugged a large wooden box out. Her eyes brows twitched in confusion, wondering where exactly he had gotten this.

"Tiernan told me to give you this, he said you wouldn't like a big deal to be made of it," he informed her, opening up the box with fiddling fingers and revealing a crown to her.

Fianna could nearly swear on the gods her heart stopped at the sight of it. It was an exact replica of Robb's crown. She knew that some of the lords had asked of the blacksmith to forge a crown for Fianna, but she had expected the smaller intricate one she received originally. This was essentially, the crown for the king in the north. Wrought with long swords and runes of the First Men.

"Oh wow," she breathed, her throat feeling thick all of a sudden. "Can you put it on my head?"

He nodded excitedly at the fact he was asked, reaching down and roughly taking it from the box, Fianna bent over so he could reach the top of her head. When he could reach fully, he plopped the new crown down into Fianna's head, mussing up her hair slightly - but she didn't mind.

Fixing it slightly, it felt odd on her head. Nothing like she thought it should have. Many Westerosi often dreamed of being able to don a crown, especially as one as prestigious as the Kings. This was the second time Fianna had done so, and still she felt as if it didn't belong to her. In truth, it didn't. It belonged to the child inside of her.

"Fianna..." Rickon voiced suddenly, his voice much more lowered and quieter, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course, love," she reassured him, urging him to sit next to her on the log.

"Is my mother and Robb dead?" It was the last thing she expected and _wanted_ to hear. The look of knowing on his face broke her heart and she was actually enjoying Rickon not knowing, when he didn't know he would talk to her about Robb as if he hadn't died and just hadn't been home yet.

"Who told you that?" She asked after clearing her throat.

"I heard some ladies talking by the kitchens," he admitted, cheeks flushing slightly.

"Look," she started, taking a deep breath and Rickon's hands into her. "I'm so sorry to do this to you. But yes, they are dead."

His reaction wasn't as expected, she had been expecting roaring and crying as was the custom with Rickon. But all he did instead was look visibly defeated and look down at his feet. Rickon was getting stronger and more mature by the day and it was heartbreaking to watch.

"You know, old nan used to tell us that there was once a king who could bring the dead to life," Rickon mumbled after a few minutes of silence.

"The Night King," she affirmed, chewing on her lower lip and squeezing his hands for comfort. He didn't speak again that day.

"Fianna!" She heard called out suddenly, her head snapping up to make out Tiernan's approaching figure.

"Go to your chambers and I'll come up to you soon," Fianna whispered to Rickon, ruffling his hair and stayed seated as she watched him walk slowly away. As if he had the weight of the seven kingdoms crushing down on him.

"What is it?" She asked, half dreading his answer judging by his flushed cheeks and how quickly he ran to catch her.

"You're gonna love this one," he confused her by actually smiling while panting, "Joffrey Baratheon is dead."

* * *

 ** **Sorry for the week delay on this chapter, my only excuse is St Patrick's Day. I'm sure you can all understand.****

 ** **Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and favourited. It means the world to me.****

 ** **reaganrose115 - No, now it ends. ;) Just kidding, I couldn't help it. Thank you and thank you for reviewing!****

 ** **Guest - you're absolutely right, Robb is as stubborn as any northerner AND a Stark, he's not gonna bend that easily! And yes, Rickon was safely hidden when the rest of the North first arrived. So apart from the Lords who have pledged fealty to Fianna, nobody else knows that Rickon is staying at Baelfort. I'm glad you think it makes sense for Fianna to be hailed Queen Regent, I was worried some wouldn't think it makes sense or that the north are too distrustful of her! Thank you so much for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this chapter!****

 ** **Guest1995 - Ramsay is keeping Robb and Theon apart just in case it would trigger either of them to turn against Ramsay, especially now while Robb is still fairly sensitive to persuasion and is distrustful of Ramsay. Ramsay taking Theon to get the Iron Born out of Moat Cailin would give him the opportunity to separate them both for a while. You're right, screw the Flints and the Umbers. I done a lot of research for the previous chapter, particularly about Northern families. The Karstarks, Flints and the Umbers sided with the Bolton's in the Battle of the Bastards, it would make sense for them to not side with Fianna. Thank you so much I hope you liked this chapter!****

 ** **Maren - it's a huge compliment that you see Fianna as a strong female character, that's been my goal throughout. Thank you!****

 ** **starevolution1273 - I absolutely can't WAIT until this story progresses because I have so much revenge and blood and twists planned and I'm only building up to it now! Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy what's to come!****

 ** **Korkman2 - that is honestly such a compliment to say this is one of the best GoT fan fictions, I'm sooo unbelievably flattered thank you so much! And Rickon was kept hidden for the last chapter so Fianna could suss out the intentions of the Northern Lords before exposing him to danger. It's a good thing, the Umbers and the Flints could have taken the information that Rickon was alive back to the Bolton's.****

 ** **Guest - You actually cried? Oh my god, my heart! I must be doing something right anyway ahah! I completely agree, Rickon was gone for so long and then his death was so abrupt, it's like they completely forgot about him after that when he had so much potential. I definitely think GRRM will have bigger plans for him than the show had! But don't worry, Fianna and Tiernan will be keeping him safe for now!****

 ** **swanqueen4 - whenever you get to this chapter, i enjoyed reading your reactions to the older chapters! And I hope you enjoyed everything!****


	34. (XXXIII) To Save Someone

_Yara_

The blood rushing to her head was loud, and her shoulders were stiff. It was a familiar sensation, one she always felt when she walked into situations that would inevitably end in confrontation.

But Yara Greyjoy was more anxious than usual. Fifty of her best men were at her side, and she knew that if they didn't stay discrete, they wouldn't be enough.

This wasn't a repeat of Baelfort, this was no siege. She was here to rescue her brother and no more.

Her grey eyes were fixed on the looming castle ahead of her, her men's soft grunts of exertion from rowing the boats behind her. They were just as disgusted by the Bolton's letter as she had been upon first reading it. The Iron Born were by no means honourable, but to mutilate one was to mutilate them all.

When they finally docked near rocks, they slid out into the night to begin the course. The Dreadfort, like most Westerosi households, was surrounded by an expanse of tall brick walls for protection. They would need to scale it if they wanted to get inside.

Firing up a grapple until it caught onto a crook in the top of the wall, Yara and her men began to ascend the wall as silent as spiders.

The scratch of the hook against brick had caught the attention of a sentry guard, who moved over to check it out but was met almost instantly with the sharp blade held in Yara's hand.

The rest of her men began to scurry over the spaces in the top of the wall, only to be met with two Bolton guards who noticed the ruckus outside. They rushed out, and the first one was met with the same fate as his friend. The second one was to be used to Yara's advantage, as she threw his lean body against the wall and held an axe to his throat.

"Theon Greyjoy?" She demanded, pressing the blade right to his skin, but not too hard so as to mark it. When the man started to stutter in confusion, she pushed him harder against the wall. "I'm here for Theon Greyjoy, take me to the dungeons!"

"T-Theon Greyjoy's not in the dungeons," he stuttered in response, sweating profusely with nervousness.

With the slightest bit of more coercion, Yara was able to deduce a confession from the man of Theon's whereabouts. She gripped him roughly and turned him around, keeping the axe to his throat and commanded him to lead the way.

He did so dutifully, winding Yara through the darkened hallways that were only lit by the stolen torch in one of her men's hand.

They reached another hallway and awaited for the next direction. When he finally said "it's down that hallway", Yara thanked him politely. Before ever so non-politely slitting his throat.

Letting his limp body fall to the ground, Yara stepped over the carcass without care as her boot clipped his shoulder, and made her way down the hallway to the room at the end of it.

A chorus of dogs barking began to ring out as she neared, and she wondered briefly if they were entrapped or not. Thankfully as she rounded the corner, she saw that they were. Now she wondered if the man had been lying, for why would her brother be along with the dogs?

But sure enough, upon further inspection, there he was. In a cage of his own, dirty and frail looking. The light of the torch shone over and brightened up the cage to show his face, the eyes staring back at her frightened her half to death. He looked absolutely terrified of her presence.

Not knowing what else to say, she settled for a nod and a "we're going home." But it did little to ease his fright.

Lifting her axe, she brought down the heel of it until it broke the lock on his cage. Confusing her entirely, Theon shouted back "no". As if he didn't _want_ to be rescued.

He scampered back in his cell to get away from his own sister, Yara placed this down to simple trauma, and continued to push forward and try to reach him.

"It's alright," she assured the figure that she wasn't even entirely sure was her brother any more. "It's me, Yara."

"You can't trick me!" He muttered in terror, gripping on for dear life to the bars of his cell as Yara crouched down to enter it.

"I'm not tricking you, Theon! I'm saving you!"

"Not Theon! Reek! Reek! My name is Reek!"

"We can't just sit here, we're trapped!" Barten called in at her, anxiously bouncing on his feet and looking back and forth between the spectacle in the cage and the entrance to the room.

"Help me with him!" Yara shouted back, reaching in and losing her patience, she gripped onto her younger brother and started to drag him out of the cell.

"No! No! You can't!"

"You're Theon Greyjoy!"

"I know who I am! I know who I am! Reek! Reek!"

The smell of him surely warranted such a nickname. The sight was something Yara would never forget, her younger brother, who was once so cocky and larger than life - now gripping onto the bars of his cell and refusing to be rescued out of absolute terror for the repercussions.

Still shouting when they managed to wrestle him out of the cage, Yara clamped her hand over his mouth before he drew any more attention to them. Entirely focused on handling her brother, Yara and Barten failed to see the figure who came in from the doorway until a sword was suddenly impaling Jones' body.

Their heads snapped up to reveal a man, looking upon the scene with an uninterested expression. His hair was shaved close to the scalp, neither Yara nor Barten seemed to recognise him. But Theon did. His body stopped flailing for a second to look upon the figure with absolute shock and horror, his face reminded him so much of an old life. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"What's going on here then? You mean to trespass and kidnap?" The man spoke, a cutting undertone to his voice. Yara noticed his rather strange demeanour, he kept twitching. Not in a nervous way, more like if the anger of a thousand men had been injected into his bloodstream.

"It's not a kidnap, it's a rescue," Yara spat back, gripping onto Theon tighter when he started to struggle again, letting out loud wails and cries.

"He doesn't look like he wants you to take him, I'd call that abduction," he replied snarky, nodding towards the broken man in Yara's arms.

"What did you do to him?! Who are you?!" She shouted angrily, Ike responding with a twitch of his head as he began to walk towards the group of six or seven .

Barten brandished his own sword and stepped forward to protect Yara, but the manpower lost meant that Theon escaped their combined grips and scurried back into his cage.

At that moment, Ramsay chose to enter the room with some much needed backup for his progeny.

"Ah Ike, don't fret. I've brought some help," he stared off with, top half entirely bare. "Although judging by the string of dead bodies you left in the hall, I'm not sure you needed it."

Ike never replied, and thus, Ramsay turned his attention to the main attraction. He took a moment to remark on the small crowd surrounding Yara, before his cheeks lifted in his signature devilish grin and he held his daggers out.

"This is turning out to be a _lovely_ evening," he drawled cockily, before him, his men and Ike all hurtled forward and began to take down the remaining Iron Born.

Yara, realising their position, reached back in on a last desperate attempt to get her brother. He responded by biting her hand harsh enough to draw blood and cause her to let out a howl of pain.

"Theon!" She shouted as he hid in the shadows of his cage. Whipping back around, Yara swiftly drove her sword and axe forward expertly and killed two of Ramsay's men.

The numbers dwindled, a few of Ramsay's men had been killed, but only two of Yara's remained. The positions were switched now, with Yara next to the door and Ramsay next to Theon's cage.

"Give me my brother, and no more of your men will die," she panted in exasperation.

"You've got bigger balls than he ever did," Ramsay joked, pointing his sword back to Theon's cage. "But with those big balls of yours, how fast can you run?"

He grinned widely when he finished, glancing at Ike and fishing a set of keys out of his pocket, handing them over. The gesture was enough for Ike to know his command, and he turned and began to open the cages, effectively releasing the hounds.

Yara had no choice but to retreat and run as fast as she could, retracing her steps back out to the balcony and climbing back down the wall. By some miracle, the rope she scampered down wasn't cut by one of Ramsay's men. So it wasn't long until she reached her boat again,

The mission had been a failure, but there was no dragging Theon whether they could have made it or not.

And if anyone asked, Theon Greyjoy was dead.

* * *

 _Ike_

Using the basin of water in his room, Ike dutifully tended to the small cuts on his arms and torso he received in the fight. Nothing major, the expected amount after fighting in ones nightwear with a lack of armour.

His thoughts were getting harder and harder to keep track of, focus diminishing by the day. The Basilik's blood was taking full effect, and it wouldn't be long before Robb Stark would become a senseless, enraged killer. Just like Ramsay wanted.

Through the masses of muddled thoughts and hazy images, there was one that stuck out the most to him. The boy he had barely caught a glimpse of in the room.

He knew him to be named Reek, as Ramsay had told him of such an individual. He had never met a man with such a name in his life, but the face he bore struck a chord of familiarity in Robb, and even in his hazy state he could see it did as well in him.

Before he could try and add to the thought, perhaps search his brain for explanations, the door to his bedroom was opening. Ramsay appeared in the open space, smirking smartly like he had just fucked a whore and killed his worst enemy in the same night.

"Ike," he greeted, nodding his head. Ike dried his hands off with some cloth before turning to give him his full attention.

"You done well tonight," Ramsay continued, "by my count, you killed six Iron Born."

"I dislike the Iron Born, that's why," Ike spoke with such a ferocity. Ramsay cocked an eyebrow at this.

"And whys that?"

He paused, racking his brain for a moment. Ike knew deep down that he had a distaste for the Iron Born because they invaded Fianna Stark's home. But he couldn't tell Ramsay that, should Ramsay believe he still thought himself as Robb Stark. Nor did he want to reopen the fresh wounds of Fianna's death.

"No reason," he passed off with a shrug.

"None the less, you've proved your loyalty to me tonight," Ramsay acted entirely in an uncharacteristic way by placing a hand on Ike's shoulder, "you're one of the best fighters we have here."

Ike only nodded in response, feeling slightly awkward.

"Do you get what I'm saying?" When Ike shook his head, Ramsay continued. "I want you to be my right hand man. We could achieve so much together."

Ike's blank expression didn't give much away, but Ramsay suspected it was the haze of the basilik's blood instead of complete indifference. He could only force a nod in accepting, and that was all Ramsay required.

He left the room after that, leaving Ike to his own devices.

Ike's skin crawled with something invisible to the eye, he began to scratch quickly up and down his arms, digging his fingernails in to relieve it. When it wasn't working, he groaned and dug his nails in harder and harder, but the itch wouldn't relieve itself.

After a few minutes, it disappeared completely, and Ike could stop scratching. But when he did, he finally saw just how deep he scratched. The entirety of his arms burned with fresh scratches, some oozing drops of blood. He hadn't even realised when he was doing it.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

Tiernan Brady found that he enjoyed Rickon Stark's company the most out of anyone at Baelfort, as of late. They often practiced together, Tiernan had practically taken it upon himself to raise the young boy.

He particularly enjoyed their strolls through the garden, where without the gaze of the rest of the Baelfort inhabitants on them or Osha, Rickon could talk freely to Tiernan about everything troubling him.

"Is Lady Fianna gonna be alright?" He asked out of the blue one morning, looking down at his feet as they walked leisurely.

"I suppose that would be _Queen_ Fianna now, young lad. But yes she will be, why do you ask?"

"My bed chambers are next to hers, I hear her crying in her bed at night," he admitted in a low tone, should anyone hear them. His worry for his good aunt was rather adorable, but his words also worried Tiernan.

"Does she?" He asked in confusion.

There was an astounding difference between the Fianna that arrived at Baelfort a few months ago, and the Fianna now. She had gained back the weight she lost, her cheeks held a rosiness to them that signified good health and pregnancy. But her eyes were just as dead as they had been before.

What changed most, perhaps, was her demeanour. Before the war, Fianna and Tiernan had been the best of friends. But now she was cold and reserved, and never talked to anyone about anything that wasn't the next battle. Save for Rickon.

"Fianna will be fine, little one," Tiernan assured, stopping in his stride, turning and dropping to one knee to be at eye level with Rickon. "She's having a hard time, right now. Give her some time and when that baby comes, she'll be hassling you to look after it."

His words excited Rickon, who's eyes and smile lit up. He couldn't _wait_ for Fianna's babe to arrive. He had always been the youngest in his family, and thus, never got the chance to look after a baby before.

Just as he was standing up, the unmistakeable sounds of grunts came to Tiernan's ears. He stood for a second, trying to suss out the perpetrator. When he saw nothing, he chose to follow it.

"Go back inside," he told Rickon, who nodded his head and took off running to go back to the castle and play with Shaggydog. A far cry from the disobedient boy who never listened to anyone when he first arrived.

Tiernan followed the noises, and worried for a second if he was about to walk in on a couple... frolicking. But when he rounded a corner to the back of the stables, his eyebrows scrunched upon seeing the scene in front of him.

Fianna had set up a bag stuffed with straw on a stick, and was currently swinging her sword through the air and hacking at it mercilessly. The entire image looked out of place with her extremely large and swollen belly.

"Fianna? What are you doing?" He called out to her, stepping forward slowly. She ignored him promptly, and continued to swing the sword with a fierceness he had never seen in her.

"Fianna, you're gonna hurt yourself, stop it," he spoke again with a deeper tone, marching up to the makeshift mannequin and his crazed cousin.

"Piss off, Tiernan," she replied finally, tearing new slits in the bag with her blade.

"This has to stop, you're pregnant. You can't be swinging swords madly, you're going to hurt yourself," he reached out and gripped onto her arm tightly, encouraging her to drop the sword. When he did, he got a reaction.

"I have to be ready!" She whirled around and spat the words at him, angrily. "The Bolton's could attack any day, I have to be ready."

"What are you saying? You mad thing. The Bolton's don't know you or Rickon or here, they have no reason to attack."

"You never pledged fealty when they called upon you, that gives them a reason."

She ripped her arm from his grip and flung her sword angrily on the ground, getting ready to stomp off but he stopped her by taking her elbow again.

"This has to stop. You are not Fianna the warrior any more, you are Queen Regent of the North and you won't be any more if anything should happen to the babe in your belly."

His words and tone caught her off guard, never having stood up to her like this before. Her surprise only lasted a second, until she was shoving him off of her again.

"I can take care of myself. Stop acting as if you're relevant here," her words cut him, he couldn't deny. All he could do was stand there and watch as the woman that used to be his cousin and best friend turned and began to storm off.

Something stopped her before she could make her dramatic exit, although. A sudden pain ripping through her stomach, bad enough to cause her to double over and let out a cry.

"Fianna?!" Tiernan asked in worry, pushing aside her harsh words and rushing to her side. "What is it?"

"The baby," she panted in pain.

* * *

 ** **It's coming!****

 ** **This chapter was slightly delayed because it's one I really didn't want to have to write, I'm far more excited to write future chapters but of course I can't just skip the storyline. If it seems rather dull right now it's because it's only building up to bigger things.****

 ** **I've also decided to change the actor I envision as Tiernan to Sam Heughan, after watching Outlander I think he's the perfect actor to play the character.****

 ** **And next up, who wants a Robb Stark baby?****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - I'm glad you did! I hope you liked this chapter too!****

 ** **reaganrose115 - Nothing better to make someone's day than the death of a Lannister. Thank you! I hope you enjoy this one!****

 ** **starevolution1273 - The good thing about including Rickon in this story is that I get to develop his character in a way that wasn't done in the show, like even in this chapter, growing up in a stable environment with role models like Tiernan has made him more mannerly and less prone to lashing out. I'm glad you think them questioning the heir would actually happen, I always try to write scenarios that are realistic to the GoT universe! Thanks sooo much for this review I loved it!****

 ** **Shannan - Reek and Ike have met now! Unfortunately, they're both a little too messed up to fully acknowledge that. But they had a brief moment of recognition. Thanks for reviewing as always, I hope you like what's to come 3****


	35. (XXXIV) Vexing Visions

_Song: Saturn by Sleeping at Last_

 _Tiernan_

The pain of childbirth, Tiernan Brady would soon discover, was not always constant - it came in waves. After Fianna had doubled over in pain, mere seconds later she stood upright and claimed to be fine again.

He had tried to carry her, should the pain return, all the while calling out for the maester at Baelfort. But Fianna was nothing if not stubborn, batting his hands away and waddling back inside all of her own accord.

The maester advised her to go upstairs to her bed where he could examine her - she accepted (reluctantly, but for her baby's sake) and trudged upstairs.

Minutes into relaxing into her sheets, the pain returned. Causing an ear-splitting wail to sound out from her, nails digging into the bed.

"That sounded like the pains of childbirth, your grace," Maester Janos advised her, receiving a glare from the woman herself and a gesture of her hands that insinuated the phrase, "you think?!"

"I should leave the room," Tiernan said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck and moving to leave.

"Not yet," she called back, her voice slightly hoarser than before, "just stay for a while. Please."

He nodded, after all, how could he deny a woman in labour? Instead of leaving, he sat himself in a stool next to her bed as the maester left again, claiming it would be some time before she was ready to have the babe. An awkward silence befell them.

"So..." Tiernan began, desperate to fill the silence, "does it hurt really bad?"

Fianna looked at him deadpan before spewing in a monotonous voice, "fucking obviously, Tiernan."

"I hope when the babe arrives it takes your moods with it," he couldn't refrain from commenting, rolling his eyes.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She spat in offence. Tiernan had two options, tell her now and get it over with while they were confined in the room, or wait until a more appropriate time. Unfortunately for them both, he was never one to hold back for long.

"You know exactly what I mean. You come back here, acting as if nothing has changed and you're the Lady of Baelfort again and I let it happen because you were obviously traumatised. But now you're Queen in the North and you've gone power mad, Fianna.

"You never talk to anyone about anything that isn't about taking down Roose Bolton or killing Walder Frey. All of your plans revolve around your revenge and it sickens me, you've gone power crazy, Fianna. You're not the girl you once were, you're not this Mad Queen."

He regretted it the second he finished, watching with a suddenly tightened chest as her expression froze and her eyes hardened. She was silent for a few minutes, leading Tiernan to believe that he almost got away with it and that she wouldn't retaliate. But it wasn't long before she was able to reply.

"You think I've become a Mad Queen is that it?" She asked rhetorically, her tone scarily calm but her expression showed different. "You wanna know what I think?"

She continued before he could reply.

"I think you're the one that's power hungry. Let's face it, if I hadn't left Baelfort in your hands when I rode off to war, you wouldn't have hated me the second I returned," his mouth opened to deny it, but she cut him off. "You think I don't know that you wish I had never come back? I'm not foolish to believe you didn't mourn me, but I'm also not foolish enough to be blinded to the fact you have wanted what I have ever since we were children. I was there when you were fourteen and asked my father if Baelfort would be yours because you were the only male successor, and I seen the look in your eyes when he told you that it would be me.

"I don't hate you for it. You thought Baelfort was yours until I came out of nowhere and snatched it back from you. You're right, I'm not power hungry. I could give a damn if I'm a lady or a queen. But I _needed_ that power that I lost back. You weren't there. You weren't forced to watch as Gregor Clegane slaughtered all your men who allowed it to happen to save your life. You weren't stuck in a room, forced to watch and listen as everyone around you that you had grown to care about was butchered mercilessly. Ser Mick died protecting me. Robb died right in front of me. Catelyn died right in front of me. And all I could do was scream as they dragged me over the bodies and threw me in a cell, covered in everyone's blood. The most violent thing you have ever seen in your life is a dog chasing a rat. You will never know the feeling of being absolutely and entirely powerless, I loved Robb Stark with all my being and he died. He died and he left me and he swore he wouldn't. He died and he left me with a babe I'll be forced to look at everyday and see the man I lost. This baby inside of me is the reason I haven't taken my own life already so don't you dare sit there and tell me that I don't deserve to be snappy, or it's shit that I don't smile or make conversation about the fucking weather or whether or not the maid and kennelmaster are fucking. Don't you dare act as if I haven't earned the right to feel like I have a little control over my life again and that I don't deserve to get my revenge."

She was crying by the end of it, and Tiernan himself felt his eyes water. He was absolutely speechless and the guilt exploded through his body without mercy. He opened his mouth to speak, but she only waved her hand to shut him up.

"Just get out of my room, please."

When he didn't move she lifted a stray book from the table aside her bed and hurled it through the air until it hit the wall by his head.

"I said _get the fuck out_!" She screamed at him, causing him to jump, leap up and half-sprint to the door to get out of the room.

The second he closed the door behind him, he could hear the sobs start up again, mixed with groans of pain that accompanied yet another contraction.

* * *

Tiernan never strayed far from the hallway Fianna's chambers were on for the hours following. The maester travelled in and out, as well as a few maids. Occasionally, Fianna would let out howls of pain so loud he was never so glad to be a man in his life.

After what felt like days, with Tiernans legs cramping from sitting in a chair in the hall for so long, he knew it was time. Her shouts of pain were louder than ever and maids had just travelled inside carrying blankets and a basin of hot water.

He couldn't resist any more. Traditionally, men weren't allowed inside while the women were giving birth. But Fianna was never more alone in her life, and since when did the Buas follow tradition?

Making a split second decision, he raced inside, keeping his eyes forward to avoid seeing anything that would traumatise him and rushed to Fianna's side.

"What are you doing?" She complained, shuffling away as he sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"I'm sorry. I'm here for you," Tiernan whispered to her, and that was all it took for their strife to be forgiven. For at that moment, more pressing matters were at hand.

"Push, your grace!" The maester shouted suddenly, resulting in Fianna gripping onto Tiernan's hand tightly and starting to push. Her hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to her forehead and neck.

"Ouch, try to remember you're a better warrior than I am," Tiernan muttered when she squeezed his had so hard he thought he heard bones crack.

"Shut... up..." she panted between pushing, before hauling herself up again and pushing once more.

After a few agonising minutes that was painful for all involved, a baby finally slid into the maester's waiting hands.

They collectively sighed in relief as the babe let out a scream, a greeting to all. Tiernan turned to look at his cousin and smiled when he saw her positively beaming with a happiness he hadn't seen in years, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"It's a boy, your grace," he told her as the babe was placed on her chest to be close to her, Fianna's groans of pain turning to sobs.

"He's so beautiful," she murmured, stroking his soft, pink cheek as her voice lulled him enough to stop wailing. "Little Eddie Stark."

All of a sudden, her soft expression contorted into one of pain again.

"Maester? What's happening?" Tiernan asked desperately, the elder man moving back down to look. A woman moved quickly to take the babe from her chest, upsetting both Fianna and Eddie.

"There's... there's another one," he told them, moving forward and getting prepared for the ordeal again.

"Fucking _what_?!" Fianna shouted in shock, her eyes wide as the pain engulfed her again.

"Come on, your grace, you know what to do," he encouraged her as she started to push again.

"That bastard," she cried, briefly glancing up at Tiernan, "I told him I'd kill him if he gave me twins!"

Tiernan breathed a laugh of amusement, rolling his eyes and offering his hand to her again.

It wasn't long before the second babe arrived, as equally as beautiful as the first, but this time Fianna didn't have the same doting expression on her face.

"It's a girl," the maester called out, unaware of the Queens deteriorating condition. It was Tiernan who noticed, taking his eyes away from his new cousin when Fianna's hand fell from his owns and her body went limp.

"Maester Janos!" He shouted out, moving away in shock. Acting quickly, Janos placed the newborn in the arms of another waiting lady and moved back to the bed.

"She's bleeding too much," he hissed in frustration, "you'll have to leave."

Tiernan was reluctant originally, but considered it best if he left the maester to work. Even if that did involve waiting outside anxiously.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The first thing she was aware of, when she was aware of anything again, was the fact she was in a time and place that wasn't altogether reality.

Fianna felt as though she were floating. A transparent mass where a body once was, she couldn't feel the air around her. But she could see and hear for now, and that was enough.

Not realising it at first, it took a few seconds for her to distinguish her surroundings and when she did, she bit back a scream.

Dozens of bodies lay by her feet, each one of them she recognised as the men who fought aside herself and Robb. Men who were butchered at the Red Wedding. The Lannister song that sounded danger began to ring in her ears.

She was right back where she was months before, in the midst of a bloodbath.

Fianna's chest tightened as she was faced with the realisation that if she were to turn around, she would most likely be met with the body of her husband.

It took her a moment before she did, and when she did, she breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Robb wasn't anywhere to be found.

Instead, Walder Frey stood a few feet from her. His appearance hadn't changed since their last encounter at all, except the mocking grin that once hung off his lips was now replaced with a parted mouth and eyes wide with fright.

Fianna let out a soft gasp as all of a sudden, without provocation, a line of red began to appear across his neck and blood began to spill from it. It gushed harder and harder, spurting out until eventually he fell to the ground. Dead.

Before she could even process it, the scene had changed along with the bang of the weaselly man's corpse hitting the ground.

Now, without so much as moving an inch, Fianna found herself smack bang in the centre of Winterfell. She had only visited the stronghold twice in all her days, but the image of it was more crystal clear than any memory of hers could have been.

As she gazed upon the tall walls that donned the Stark banner, the eruption of childlike laughter sounded out from behind her distracted her effectively.

Fianna turned slowly in curiosity, her heart hammering in her chest when she found the source of the giggles.

Two small children, no older than five, were standing close behind her. They were twins, it was easy to tell. Their curly dark hair held a tinge of red to it and their identical bright grey eyes gave it away.

They were in the midst of holding sticks up to each other, feigning swordplay as they bashed their sticks against the others.

Fianna watched the scene, feeling a warmth rise in her. She had never seen the two in her life, but she somehow knew they were her children. Her babies.

The girl had overestimated her next swing and accidentally hit the boy over the head with her stick, causing him to cry out and drop his own.

"Aifric! We weren't supposed to hit each other!" He shouted out in frustration, a babyish lisp to his tone.

"Are you alright, Eddie?"

Fianna's world as she knew it at that minute stopped entirely. Her heart, her lungs, her entire body became encased in a sheet of ice. She had to force herself to look, but she already knew who asked the question. A voice she hadn't heard in months. A voice she would give all of her limbs to hear just once more.

Robb crouched down and scooped the boy up in his arms, quickly checking over his head for any physical signs of injury. Involuntarily, tears welled in Fianna's eyes and a sob rose from her chest.

This... dream, was far more traumatising than the last. It was one thing to remember something that had happened, but quite another to see her children in the arms of their father, an image she could only imagine for the rest of her life.

He looked different than she remembered, slightly older with a hardened edge to his once softer features. His hair was cut shorter, but still held the Tully red tint he had apparently passed on to his children. What was most strikingly different, perhaps, was the scar bore on his face - running from the side of his forehead down to the cheekbone.

Scars or no, her eyes were fixed on him.

"He was being a pussy, father," the girl haughtily replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aifric!" He gasped dramatically at her, "and who taught you that word?"

"Uncle Tiernan," she giggled mischievously, causing Fianna to let out a strange half-sob, half laugh. Tears streamed down her face but the scene was entertaining none the less.

A screech loud enough to distract her from the breathtaking view boomed through the skies, something not altogether human. Fianna craned her neck to look up, narrowing her eyes as a large, dark mass suddenly sailed past. It's wings cast a dark shadow over everything underneath, but perhaps what was most breathtaking was the creature itself. A dragon, there was no doubting it.

When she looked back down, her breath hitched upon noticing her family were gone.

"No, please, no!" Fianna begged as her vision began to fade again, tearing away her view of Winterfell. "Robb!" She screamed, but her efforts were futile.

In place of the dark, muddy grounds, she was now surrounded in a ring of fire. Great, big flames was all she could see for as far as she _could_ see, causing her to whirl around on the spot in panic and anxiously look around for an escape.

Escape came in another form altogether, as a figure began to emerge from the flames, not even the slightest bit scathed by the fire.

Her beauty was absolutely breathtaking, and her body was bare of any clothing. Like it had been burned away but her skin hadn't been touched.

Her hair was long, silver and absolutely breathtaking as it hung over her shoulders effortlessly. The girls violet blue eyes were fixed solely on Fianna.

When the woman reached the edge of the fire, she surprised Fianna by holding a hand out to her. She was against taking it entirely, for obvious reasons, but her body had another agenda in mind. Against her will, her own had lifted and slid into the woman's.

The woman then promptly began to retreat slowly into the flames, taking Fianna with her.

The Northern Queen shut her eyes tightly as she prepared for the pain, but was shocked to find that the flames did not affect her either.

Instead, it was like a soft heat against her skin, instead of the raging and life endangering fire that it was.

The girl smiled softly in encouragement and dropped her hand from Fianna's, turning her body to face her entirely and clasping her hands in front of her stomach.

"Shall we begin?"

* * *

The next she opened her eyes, Fianna Stark was in her bed again, staring at the ceiling above her.

Her body ached, and although she had been asleep, she still felt exhausted. The pain between her legs was monumental, but it only meant one thing.

With that realisation, she shot up in bed, her eyes darting around the room anxiously. She was met with the gaze of Maester Janos staring at her with a soft smile.

"Where are my babies?" She asked abruptly, remembering before she had passed out that there had been an extra occupant in her belly. Just like Robb had hoped there'd be.

"They're in the other room, your grace," he told her in his raspy voice, standing up slowly and making his way towards the door. "I shall get them for you, your cousin has been most anxious for you to awaken."

A few minutes after he left, the door opened again, and through it shuffled in Tiernan and a wet nurse, each carrying a small bundle in their arms.

"Is that-...?" Her voice choked out, eyes full of hope and fear.

"It is," Tiernan assured her, moving forward and sitting down on the side of the bed. He angled his body towards her and revealed the being beneath the blankets.

"Meet your daughter," he continued, giving her a warm smile. He gently lifted the small babe up and into Fianna's waiting arms.

Fianna's breath hitched at just how beautiful the little thing was, running her index finger over her soft cheek and bopping her small nose.

She shifted the babe to nestle in the crook of one of her arms, and used the free one to gesture to the maid to let her have the other.

Carefully, Eddard Stark was placed in his mother's free arm, the other occupied by his sister. Fianna's heart felt warmer than it had in months. And she realised just how wrong she had been when she said she could never love anything again, for the attachment she felt to the small beings in her arms was nothing like she felt before.

It even exceeded the love she felt for her own father and for her late husband. For she had made this, her and Robb.

"So we have Eddard, which I hope you're sticking to using Eddie for short," Tiernan began, feeling more comfortable next to his cousin than he had in years, "what will you call the girl?"

"Aifric," Fianna answered without hesitation. For centuries, no one had dared name their child after the famed Bua rebel. It felt a more suitable time than ever to bring it back.

"Controversial," Tiernan laughed, but decided it suited her well. The first Aifric Bua may have refused to bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen, but people would be _bending_ the knee to Aifric Stark.

* * *

 ** **I'm actually really excited about this chapter. It's been a long time coming and I've jam packed it full of symbolism and imagery. If people don't draw a certain theory from this I'll be so frustrated haha.****

 ** **And we have a set of twins, remember when Tywin Lannister commented that the Bua girls tended to be highly fertile?****

 ** **I honestly think this is the first fanfiction I've seen (well, I wrote it but anyway) where Robb actually ends up having a child and the protagonist doesn't have a miscarriage or just not get pregnant at all, I don't know why I mean surely we'd all like to see little mini Starks?****

 ** **Seeing as the name will be commonly used now, in case you wondered, Aifric is an Irish name that is pronounced like "aff-rick".****

 ** **I hope you enjoy this one! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - I suppose that should be the children* of Robb Stark now ;) thanks so much and I hope you enjoyed this one!****

 ** **reaganrose115- I wonder is anyone sick of how much angst is in this book now yet ahaha****

 ** **starevolution1273 - that's hilarious haha! God I can't wait for Robb to make a comeback too! The timeline of the book is roughly right now end of season four/start of season five so it won't be too far away but a lot has to happen before Robb is saved! I hope you liked this chapter xx****


	36. (XXXV) Dreadfort Deliberations

_Song: Control by Halsey_

 _Leigha_

The sounds of grunts had awoken all who slept nearby. This was a fort full of adults, who were accustomed to hearing the occasional groan of ecstasy. But this was altogether different, and prompted one of the nearby maids to investigate.

She followed the source of the noise until it led her to the room she knew housed the 'Broken Man', as the Dreadfort occupants had come to know him as.

Her hand shook as she hesitated to open the door, her curiosity getting the better of her in the end. Besides, now that she was closer she could hear soft cries of sadness as well. Perhaps there was someone in need of help.

The maiden opened the door a sliver, just enough to see inside. She finally saw the source of the noise, and wished with all her heart she stayed in bed. For this was an image that would stick with her.

The Broken Man had taken a fit of madness, it appeared. He stood, shirtless with his palms against the wall, unrelentingly bashing his forehead against the bricks.

It very obviously hurt him to do so, blood dripped down his face from his forehead and between hitting, he would let out a quiet sob. She couldn't stop herself from letting out a gasp at the sight, causing him to whirl around and catch her spying. Her mouth dropped in horror upon seeing the blood drip from a would in his head, down his nose and off his chin.

She sprinted barefoot back down the hallways to retreat back to her room, not even daring to look back at him out of fear. When she finally cornered around her adjacent chamber door, she flew inside, shut and locked it, and then resorted to pulling the covers over her head.

Leigha was absolutely terrified of the man, now more than before. What could send a man into such a blind fit that he would cause himself such physical harm?

Only a mad man could do such a thing.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Babies, Fianna Stark would come to learn, were not her strongest point.

She was almost a master of all trades, being particularly gifted with a sword and good enough with a bow and arrow. Her sharp mind meant any plan she put forth was meticulous and rarely failed to execute well. But babies? Babies were where she faulted.

As Catelyn had pointed out to her all that time ago, Fianna never had a mother figure in her life. But she also never had any children. Tiernan was older than her so she never had to mind him. She had no siblings to speak of. When it came to maternal skills, she worried she was deprived completely.

At times, she worried that her babies hated her. What mother struggled to bond with their newborns? She loved them, that was doubtless. But when it came to having a bond with the twins: knowing what they wanted, being able to stop them crying - she could never fulfil that.

It had been two months since she had given birth, the twins were growing bigger all the while but were still so miniature. Fianna's body was beginning to bounce back into shape from her rigorous training. Now that she didn't have to worry about damaging the babies while pregnant, she could focus on refining her sword skills.

Aifric and Eddie slept in the same crib next to Fianna's bed. It wasn't a usual practice to have babes so close, should it disturb the parents sleep, but Fianna insisted.

In truth, she was scared to leave them alone. Now that she had them and loved them so dearly, the thought of losing them like she had so brutally lost so many others kept her awake at night. She would often stay awake to the early hours of the morning, sitting next to the crib and watching to make sure they were breathing. Too scared to blink should she miss a breath.

She would imagine one babe would be difficult enough, but two? When one began to scream, the other followed. All they had seemed to be able to do was scream and cry. It was so stressful to Fianna that on multiple occasions she cried along with them.

The stress, lack of sleep and her inability to bond with them was getting to her. Unfortunately, Rickon bore the brunt of her sharp mood just the other day.

She had snapped at him so hard that Osha had drew her blade to defend him, which led to a ruckus in the dining hall where every man in the next mile drew his sword at the wildling woman to protect their queen.

Fianna was quick to defend her and apologise, but he was still skittish around her ever since.

She stood aside their crib, letting her fingers run over the soft blanket covering their small bodies.

Eddie and Aifric were most content when they were beside each other, often fussing when they were separated. They had never had a verbal conversation, yet the connection between the twins was a beautiful thing to witness.

"They're driving you mad, aren't they?" Tiernan whispered, coming up behind her to look over the side and in at the babes.

"Is stabbing a pillow to death a sign of madness?" She questioned sarcastically, referring to an incident days before where she got so frustrated she whipped her ankle dagger out and tore open a few pillows.

"It'll get easier, your father managed to look after you," he pointed out.

"Yeah, because he had a wet nurse," she retorted. A small crease seemed to be permanently formed between her eyebrows lately.

"I've noticed you've been training a lot lately. What are you preparing for?"

Fianna didn't answer, and instead, turned to him and gave him a tight smile. Getting up from her stool, she made her way towards the bedroom door.

"You should know," he called out before she could leave, "the Lords are getting a bit antsy."

"What do you mean?" She turned, questioning in confusion.

"They're waiting in the council room. They say that you haven't put forth a plan of action yet. They're quite frustrated from what I gather," he said embarrassedly. He hated to be the one to have to tell her, she had just given birth weeks earlier. But there was no ignoring this.

"Who said I didn't have a plan?" She spoke cryptically, her expression calm as she turned out the door and made her way towards the council room.

* * *

 _Ramsay_

"You called for me, Ser?" Ike sounded out of nowhere, half frightening Ramsay as he whirled around in his chambers.

"Ah yes, Ike," he smirked his devilish grin, gesturing with his hand for the maid who was packing his belongings into a trunk to leave. "Nasty cut you've got there."

He was referring, of course, to the long gash Robb had self-inflicted on his forehead. Rumours had been rife around the castle ever since the serving girl had witnessed his breakdown, and Ramsay had heard them all.

"I fell against a wall," Robb explained, causing Ramsay to smile knowingly.

"I'm going to take a trip, Ike," Ramsay informed him, his hands behind his back as his eyes marvelled over his little monster. He was forced to lessen the dosage of Basilik's blood, intending to only madden Robb to the brink of rage - not to the point of harming himself.

"Okay," Ike replied uncaringly, Ramsay was not offended. He knew Ike didn't care for him, love was not what he longed for. It was loyalty.

"I need someone I can trust to watch the Dreadfort in my absence," he hinted to him, his eyebrows raising suggestively. He got slightly frustrated when Ike only started back blankly, not replying.

"I want _you_ to look after this place," he spat it out finally, Ike's head tilting in mild surprise.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Locke is on a mission for me and well, you have proved your loyalty to me." Ramsay turned and smirked almost mockingly then, "I did save your life didn't I?"

Ike forced a nod, teeth gritted all the while. He didn't care if the Dreadfort burned to the ground. He didn't care that Ramsay saved his life. The twisted loyalty he served to him was only out of necessity. Ramsay kept him fed and safe, and as much as he didn't want to be, something in him was telling him that he _needed_ to stay alive.

So he would do whatever he needed to do to find that something.

"I will make sure the Dreadfort is safe, Ser," Ike told him in a dry tone, with absolutely no detectable emotion.

"I'm sure that you will," Ramsay agreed, "don't forget that I still have some men here, and I will have them take you back to Walder Frey if you try to deceive me."

The name sent chills down Ike's spine and Ramsay knew it, enjoying watching his posture automatically stiffen.

"That'll be all, now," he dismissed him, and Ike dutifully turned and left, passing Reek who was waiting outside the door.

Ike's eyes narrowed for a moment and his step paused, his gaze meeting Reek's head on.

Ramsay watched with interest at the brief moment the two shared, knowing that even if Ike remembered Reek he wouldn't bother to try save him. And if Reek knew Ike, which he did, he didn't have the balls to save him.

The moment passed quickly and Ike marched onwards, Reek looking visibly deflated in his absence.

"We're going on a trip, Reek," Ramsay called to him to get his attention, causing Reek's head to snap up.

"W-we're leaving here?" He stuttered, nervousness encompassing him.

"We sure are."

"B-but..." he began, Ramsay - who had lost interest and turned away at this point, whirled back around.

"But?"

He waited for Reek to answer, but he never did. He didn't need to, Ramsay knew anyway what it was he wanted to say.

"I suppose you think that we couldn't possibly leave with Ike here, could we?" He taunted the Greyjoy heir, who dropped his head in terror. "If you dare to speak up to me again, I'll have your tongue scooped out and fed to my dogs."

Reek nodded, but it was unclear if it was a nod or because of the way his body was shaking. Ramsay dismissed him, and returned to packing his trunk.

With Theon at hand, he was going to rid Moat Cailin of Iron Born. With Robb at hand, he was going to do that while simultaneously looking after his ancestral home. After all, who better to lead a garrison than a King? He was going to kill two birds with one stone and prove to his father his abilities.

And then, he was going to join his father in retaking Winterfell. That, he would need Robb for.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"Well it's about time," one of her lords said the second she so much as placed her hand against the door. Fianna held back a roll of her eyes and continued forward into the room to her seat at the head of the table.

"That's no way to speak to your Queen," she corrected him, sitting down calmly and smoothing down her breeches.

"Queen _Regent_ ," Lord Dustin bit back, "and if you wanna stay that way, start acting like it."

"I must apologise, my lords," Fianna began, Tiernan recognising a sarcastic lull to her voice, "I had to give birth to the heir to the North. It's rather hard to devise battle strategies while two babies are making their way out of your nether regions."

They visibly cringed in disgust and reeled back, following her suit by sitting down.

"So you don't have a strategy then?" Lord Mazin asked angrily, a frustration in his voice that Fianna found perplexing.

"I never said that," she answered drily.

Standing up so she towered over he seated men, Fianna placed her hands on the table and addressed her bannermen.

"My Lords, I thank you for your patience," she began with, not meaning a word of it. "However I have been carefully devising our first attack."

"Well?" Lord Manderly eagerly pressed.

"I have scouts in every corner of the North, they see everything I need to be seeing. And what one has seen will lead us to our first siege," Fianna spoke clearly as she reached forward and gripped onto the small wolfs head pawn, currently resting over Baelfort. She lifted it into her hand and slammed it down to the right. Directly where the Dreadfort was located.

Each of the men stood to get a better view, their faces twisting in confusion upon seeing it.

"With respect, your Grace..." Lord Wyman started nervously, "all of the Bolton's forces are there. Laying siege to the Dreadfort could take months, especially since it's got the sea at its back."

"This is where my little spies come in, my Lord," Fianna replied smartly, struggling to hide her smirk. "My scouts reported seeing Roose Bolton leave with his army to head West. My best bet is he's going to Winterfell, he won't hold the North if he hasn't got it."

"So he left his bastard son to watch his ancestral home?"

"Clearly not," she shrugged, "as Ramsay was reported to leave a few days ago too with another garrison. Meaning that the Dreadfort will not be heavily protected."

"So we burn the fuckers to the ground," Hatrick Hornwood whistled, impressed. It was definitely achievable. To burn down the Dreadfort before the Bolton's could retake Winterfell, would make them a laughing stock across the seven kingdoms. It wasn't even close to the revenge Fianna had in mind. But it was a start.

"We take their home that their family name has held for centuries. We burn it to the ground and let there be no mercy for those who refuse to bend the knee."

"Fianna, might I add," Tiernan interjected, coughing when he received looks from all in the room, "Ahem. Sorry, _your grace_. If you take down the Dreadfort you will be exposing yourself to the Bolton's as a threat. You'll be telling the world that you're alive and that will place you in a very dangerous position."

"I'm well aware, dear cousin," Fianna sighed wistfully, not looking at all bothered. "It was going to happen eventually. Besides, now that the world will know that there is a Queen in the North to rally behind, perhaps they will join our cause."

After many hours of refining the details of the plan, Fianna dismissed her lords to call upon their banners. She needed as much men as she could gather, and houses that were lacking, were advised to train begin women that were willing. That was an argument in itself.

Fianna would leave a smaller infantry behind to protect Baelfort from a siege of its own in retaliation before she can return from the Dreadfort.

When the room had cleared fully and Fianna was getting ready to follow, Tiernan was finally allowed to voice the opinions he had been withholding.

"Are you just going to leave the twins here?" He questioned her, crossing his arms over his chest to show his disapproval.

"Well they're hardly fit for battle are they?" She retorted with a soft smile, which quickly faded upon realising that Tiernan was not joking.

"They need their mother, Fianna. Especially since-..." he cut off then, but Fianna knew exactly what he was about to say.

"They don't have a father?" She continued with a raised brow. "I'm aware. And I'm doing the best that I can. But I won't stop. Not until the North is a safe place for my children."

When Tiernan didn't reply right away, still looking apprehensive, she continued.

"Besides, they know their wet nurse. They know you. They know Rickon. They'll be okay-"

"What do you mean 'they know' me?" He stopped her, his head whipping up to look at her. "You mean for me to stay here?"

"Well... yes, I thought that was assumed."

"I'm not a bad fighter, Fianna. These men barely know you, you need someone you can trust," his mood went from mistrustful to angry and offended in a second.

"Exactly! And if you're here, I can trust that you're protecting our home and my babies and Rickon!"

He shook his head in protest, but didn't speak again. Fianna reached out and squeezed his bicep in comfort, before promptly leaving before it escalated into an argument.

Tiernan waited a few moments, exhaling deeply to calm himself before leaving as well, notably slamming the door as he did.

* * *

It took a week before there was enough men for Fianna to depart from Baelfort, and it was harder to do than she ever imagined.

She spent all morning with the twins, and when it came time to leave, she was getting increasingly emotional about it.

Fianna was in the midst of lulling Aifric to sleep in her chamber room, the wet nurse waiting patiently in a chair. She had given her strict instructions to never ever leave them alone, if even for a minute, unless someone is watching them.

Controversial as Aifrics name was, perhaps even more so was the song that Fianna quietly sang to her to get her to fall asleep. It was a Bua song, one that was considered treasonous to sing under the Targaryen reign, but became popular during Robert's Rebellion.

 _"Are you, are you,_  
 _coming down to see?_  
 _The Bua girl's been caught,_  
 _And murdered she will be._

 _Dragons screams and wolfhounds howls,_  
 _Yet none fiercer than Aifric's growl._  
 _Oh Aifric, if only,_  
 _you had bent the knee_.

 _Will you, will you,_  
 _come to Baelfort and see?_  
 _Her husband was slain,_  
 _and a widow she will be._

 _Dragons screams and wolfhounds howls,_  
 _Yet none fiercer than Aifric's growl._  
 _Oh we, will never,_  
 _we'll never bend the knee."_

When it finally came time to settle Aifric down next to her brother, her heart ached. She couldn't delay it any longer, the plan was set in motion and they were departing for the Dreadfort today.

Closing the door gently behind her, she was met with a sullen looking Rickon in the hallway.

"What's wrong, little lord?" She cooed, crouching slightly to be at eye level, even though he had grown so much taller in the last few months.

"The last time you left, you didn't come back," he confessed quietly, breaking her heart even more.

"I promise, this time, I'm coming back."

It was a promise she knew she shouldn't have made. But if Fianna was going to be a Queen, she would have to learn to accept that she had survived a lot and would only continue to survive. There was no point being worried for her life now.

"Look after your niece and nephew, please," she asked him, placing her finger under his chin to lift his head before placing a kiss on his forehead.

He watched her from that same spot as she walked off, her head low.

When her horse was saddled and ready, Fianna took off leading the garrison with Rodrik Forrester at her side. She wished she was able to say goodbye to Tiernan, but he had been purposefully avoiding her that day - still unimpressed with her decision.

She led her army in the general direction towards the Dreadfort, their horses taking on a fast pace so they could get there quicker before Roose's army got word and turned around, following at their tail.

Absently, Fianna found herself lowly singing the song she had earlier sang to Aifric. She didn't even realise she was singing loud enough for others to hear, until Rodrik started to chime in.

It started a chain reaction then, spreading through the army like wildfire. Every solder behind her began to sing the Bua words that were first sung centuries ago.

 _"Dragons screams and wolfhounds howls,_  
 _Yet none fiercer than Aifric's growl._  
 _Oh we, will never,_  
 _we'll never bend the knee."_

* * *

 ** **Oi oi! A rather uneventful chapter if I do say so myself. But the next one I'm already excited to write. It's been a while since we've had a good action packed battle isn't it?****

 ** **In case you feared, don't worry. Leigha is NOT a potential love interest or anything. She's a simple side character who was used to show Robb's current state.****

 ** **Also, I've made a video for Robb and Fianna! It's in my bio, please check it out 3. It's not that amazing I'll warn you, but it gives a view of what Robb and Fianna would look like in the show if the couple was real and not a figment of my imagination.****

 ** **Thanks to everyone who read or reviewed, it means the world to me!****

 ** **starevolution1273 - I HAD IT PLANNED ALL ALONG MUAHAH. God I would die for some Fianna/Dany badassness. Or Fianna/Arya. Or Fianna/Sansa. Just girl power in general I reckon! I was emotional too writing it gah! I hope you like this chapter and the next! 3****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - god neither can I! I can't wait to get through these next few chapters to get some papa Robb! Thanks so much sweetie! x****

 ** **reaganrose115 - too much niceness I reckon****

 ** **Shannan - love reading your reactions and opinions! Both your theories are quite interesting, but I have never said that Fianna's mother has Targaryen blood! What I did say was her grandfather was Ser Bonifer Hasty, and then Ser Barristan alluded to Daenerys that she would have liked Bonifer and Fianna. But it is all building up, don't worry there's a method to my madness, I just hope you'll like the way it goes! Thanks for the review as always 3****

 ** **Guest - not a hope in hell was I taking away the little baby Starks after so few fanfics feature any! And as for more little Starks, well if I'm feeling generous ;)****


	37. (XXXVI) Fire and Blood

_Song: See What I've Become by Zack Hemsey_

 _Daenerys_

For a city that was her own to rule, nobody ever told Daenerys how truly lonely it was. Being a ruler, that is.

She was stood at the balcony, looking out upon the beautiful sight before her. Meereen was a breathtaking city to behold, to be sure. But she still felt like a stranger here. Horribly detached and not belonging.

"Everyone looks quite happy from up here, I suppose," she commented to Ser Barristan, who she knew was a few feet behind her. He surprised her by letting out a low chuckle.

"What?" She questioned, turning to look at him with a curious smirk.

"I was thinking about all the times your brother made me go with him from the Red Keep down to the streets of Kings Landing," he told her, watching in amusement as her brows rose in surprise.

"Why would he do that?"

"He liked to walk among the people," he admitted, "he liked to _sing_ to them."

"He sang to them?" She asked, her lips lifting up into a grin as she began to trail back inside.

"Yes! He would pick a spot on the street, and he would sing."

"And what did you do while he sang?"

Hearing about her estranged brother always made her heart flutter. All she had ever been told by Viserys was the stories of Rhaegar's gallantry and sword skills. Never anything about his personality. She found from her discussions with Ser Barristan, that he was becoming a man she looked up to. Finally, a relative that wasn't driven mad with a hunger for power.

"I made sure no one killed him!" He replied comically, causing her to laugh. "And I collected the money."

"He was good enough to get money?"

"Oh very good!" His tone turned from amused to a little more wistful as he continued. "A trait he got from his mother I reckon."

"Did she sing too?" Her voice lowered and her eyes widened, full of wonder. She always felt childlike when they discussed her mother. The enigmatic image she had of her in her head was comparable to that of a Goddess.

"Oh all the time, especially to Rhaegar and Viserys when they were babes," he smiled warmly at Daenerys, "however horrible your father was, your Grace, your mother was in equal parts angelic."

"I can't imagine what it was like for her to be wed to him," Daenerys murmured sadly.

"You have no idea," he raised his eyebrows knowingly, which Daenerys didn't miss.

"What?" She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You're probably old enough to know now," he sighed, preparing himself for the coming conversation. "Rhaella was particularly unhappy with your father to begin with, even before he lost his mind."

Before she could ask why, he continued anyway, "she loved another."

"What?" She inhaled sharply, that was one of the last things she expected to hear from him.

"It's true," Barristan smiled in resignation, "she fell for a knight from the Stormlands before she even wed your father. I'd never seen two who were so in love before those two."

"And she was forced into marrying my father..." Daenerys confirmed, her expression noticeably saddened by the news. "What was he like? This knight that she fell for?"

"I've mentioned him to you before, like I said then, you would have liked him."

Daenerys' brows furrowed as she tried to think back, unable to remember a mention of his name.

"The grandfather of Fianna Bua," Barristan answered her thoughts, "Ser Bonifer Hasty,"

* * *

 _Fianna_

Many would see the Dreadfort having a river at its back as a disadvantage. But Fianna Stark considered otherwise.

To her, this meant they had nowhere to run.

In a move that was almost becoming signature to her, the grapples they would use to scale the Dreadfort were once again coated in wolfsbane.

As it was still daylight and the element of surprise would be eliminated, Fianna knew they would need a distraction for the sentry guards who were surely standing on the wall.

The Glovers held the largest number of men in their party, so it was decided that the Glover men would wield their banners and approach at a calm pace to the main gate, under the rouse that Robbett Glover had come to pledge fealty to the Bolton's.

This would cause suspicion of course, the letter addressed to every Northern family specifically said to come to Winterfell. So the guards would be on stand by. None the less, they would be distracted. Allowing Fianna and the rest of the vanguard to split between the line of trees to the east and west of the compound, and eventually attack from all three sides.

They waited quietly in the trees, their horses having been left miles behind to lessen their visibility. The only ones on horseback were Glover's forces.

Fianna watched patiently, dirt splattering her cheeks as she lay flat on her stomach in the tree line, watching as the other sentries were curious about the approaching command.

As directed, Robett led his men slowly and with their banners raised high. When finally having reached the gate, a guard, standing atop the wall next to the contraption that would allow them inside, spoke out.

"Who goes there!"

"Lord Robett, of House Glover!" He called back, "we have come to pledge fealty to the new Warden of the North!"

"Lord Bolton is in Winterfell, you were directed to go there and quite some time ago, I believe!"

"Well better late than never," he sarcastically shouted back, earning a few low chuckles from those behind him, "are you gonna let us in or not then, boy? My men have travelled miles and we will require some rest! Surely, the new Warden of the North would not turn away his subjects?"

The guard paused for a moment, wondering what he should do. Lord Glover had taken about 600 men along with him, there wouldn't be enough provisions for them all, if they were allowed to stay at all.

"Wait one moment!" He called back, before deciding to turn to the man in charge. Looking down at the ground below his post, he muttered down to another guard, "fetch him!"

"Now's the time," Fianna whispered to the archer beside her, who then repeated it to the one aside him until it passed down the whole line. Luckily for them, the sentry guards posted on the west facing side were all half-hanging over the wall to get a better look at the commotion. Making them an easy target.

Fianna held her fist in the air, and without delay they all nocked an arrow against their bow. She waited for a second until everyone was ready, before pointing with her finger for the archers to let loose.

Each had been instructed to pair up and aim for one guard at a time, as the number of archers far outweighed the number of guards. The risk that one arrow would miss and a guard lived to sound the alarm was too great.

Arrows flew through the air, and every one that missed, was followed by another behind it that hit its designated target.

Without wasting time, Fianna then led a single line forward to the wall, where they each dispersed out once they reached it to toss their grapples up to hook on. For them to leave the tree line as a group would have caught the attention of those stationed at the front.

Making sure their gloves were on so as not to be affected by the wolfsbane, they began to scale up the wall. Fianna only hoped that the army on the east side had remembered their signal and were currently doing the same.

The second she topped the wall, with the others following, they were rushing forward to the hallway, half-running and looking for the next guard.

It was painfully easy for them. Which made Fianna wonder if it was a trap or if the Bolton's had really been that idiotic to leave the Dreadfort unmanned like so.

"Remember your orders," Fianna shouted as they cut through the hallway, "kill every guard that isn't willing to bend the knee, and spare all the servants."

"Yes, your grace," they replied in a chorus, hastily.

* * *

 _Ike_

"What is it?" Ike asked the guard that had approached him, telling him he was needed at the front gate.

"Lord Glover has arrived to pledge fealty to Lord Bolton," he informed him quickly, a line that made Ike stop and tense up immediately.

"He wasn't supposed to come _here_ ," Ike denied, looking around with suspicion and thinking deeply for a moment.

"Sir?" The guard pressed, wondering what Ike's hesitance was for.

Before he could answer, they were interrupted by the sounds of shouting erupting from down the hallway. Ike immediately unsheathed his sword and shouted to alert everyone.

"We're under attack!"

Before he could have any more time to prepare a plan of action, the perpetrators came into view and were hurtling directly towards him.

He was confident in his fighting abilities, but not against a horde of people, by himself.

Reacting quickly, he turned and headed for the staircase, whipping around the corner and taking two steps at a time. He met an enemy on the stairs, and wasted no time in batting off their sword with his own and throwing his foot out to kick the other down the stairs.

When Ike reached the bottom and finally was able to get a good look at the man, he noted the symbol on his breast plate, which would tell him who their infiltrators were, and potentially, how many there were.

His breath caught in his throat at the paw print expertly indented into the metal.

The Buas.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stone steps threw him off, and he was forced to move again before he would be caught. He forced his feet forward, unable to deny the panic and confusion sweeping his body.

They must have found out Ike lived here and was being housed by the Bolton's, and now the remainder of House Bua had come to avenge their Lady, who he had subsequently killed.

Ike was now caught between a rock and a hard place, he would have to decide between staying and defending the family that took him in and saved his life - or running to save his own once again. The panic caused his chest to constrict, disrupting his breathing and causing him to hyperventilate.

His decision became even harder to make when he burst out of the door to the outside, only to find chaos had spread there too. Bodies of Bolton guards were strewn across the ground as a mass of people rode on horseback and ran on foot past him, the front gates had been opened to allow the Glovers in, presumedly by someone on the inside.

They were massively outnumbered, and were all likely to die within the hour.

The sounds of screams caught his attention, the lone kitchen maid that had caught him in his room weeks before was being dragged across the yard by her forearm. She was being hauled towards a group consisting of others who helped around the castle, clearly whoever was in command was sparing non-guards.

He pushed forward, ignoring his anxious state and drove his blade through the back of an enemy guard he didn't recognise. Ike tugged his sword back out and swung it again, slitting the throat of another.

Before he could make his decision on whether to stay and keep fighting or not however, it was made for him in the form of a sword handle coming and hitting him on the back of the head, effectively knocking him out.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The battle was over before it began, Fianna had brought the majority of her forces against a small garrison manning a castle, the odds were always in her favour. It was comparable to the Greyjoy siege of Baelfort, except this time the Bolton's wouldn't get a chance to take it back, because she was going to burn it to the ground.

It might not even make much of a difference to the Bolton's, after all it was clear they had a new home in Winterfell. But the insult of losing their ancestral home which hadn't fallen in the centuries that the Bolton's had possessed it, would be enough. It would also prove to them and the rest of the seven kingdoms that Fianna had the majority of the Northern houses support at her back, and would take action if she needed to.

While the rest of the remaining rooms were being cleared out, the survivors were assembled in the courtyard. The servants were grouped to the side, unharmed, where she would soon address them accordingly. The Bolton guards were lined up in the centre, all bound and being carefully watched.

Fianna gave the line up a quick glance, she would handle them afterward.

Approaching the group of servants, she tried to do so as non-intimidatingly as possible.

"Hello," Fianna greeted kindly, "do you know who I am?"

Instead of anyone choosing to give a verbal response, they all shook their heads, absolutely shaken with fear and horror.

"My name is Fianna Stark, I am the Lady to House Bua and the Queen in the North."

"Impossible," an ageing man finally spoke out, shaking his head his time in confusion, "Fianna Stark perished with The Young Wolf at the Red Wedding."

"No," she denied in a soft tone, "I was lucky enough to escape. Myself and my unborn children." When their eyes widened skeptically, she continued. "I was pregnant with twin children, my son is the heir to the North. And I have been hailed Queen Regent."

"I'm sure you are all frightened and angry, I'm sure you are all distrustful of me at the moment. However you must know, this was not a senseless act. Roose Bolton betrayed the North and killed my husband. This is vengeance in its rawest form.

"The people you see lined up, I am aware that they are probably connected to you. Your family, your friends, your lovers. Maybe just the people who protect you. I will not kill anyone on unjust causes, I can promise you that. They will be given the option to either bend the knee to me or live in exile overseas. If they decide their loyalty to the Bolton's is more important, they will pay for that decision with their lives.

"I am aware I have taken your homes and your work, but as retribution for this, I give you your freedom and an opportunity. You can all either leave here today and choose your own destiny, or you can come back to Baelfort with me. Those of you that wish to continue your line of work will be given a job and quarters to live in. Those of you that want more in life, be you man or woman, will be trained accordingly and will fight for the Northern cause. Ultimately, the decision is yours. If you want to leave, do so now."

Fianna took a few steps back to allow the group to decide amongst themselves without fear or pressure. They all wore equal looks of disbelief and paranoia, refusing to make a move for fear of being struck down. But Fianna was willing to wait patiently.

Finally, the man who spoke out earlier made a move. He stepped away from the group in the direction of the gates, slowly at first but then when he realised there would be no consequences, he ran in a sprint straight for the gates and out of sight.

Showing the rest that Fianna was sincere about allowing them to go free, more and more followed, choosing a life of freedom instead of working for a traitor to the crown. Fianna couldn't and wouldn't blame them for it.

When there was no more movement, she was surprised to see that about half of the original crowd had remained, deciding to join the rebellion and serve Fianna. Her heart swelled with hope despite the dire conditions, and she sent them a nod of thanks.

As she turned and began to approach the line of surviving guards, she was disrupted by the sudden disturbance of of a figure bursting up from amongst the dead bodies, obviously having been presumed dead before and placed there. She could only see the figure from behind as he took off sprinting towards the entrance. Immediately, her own guards drew their bow and arrow to shoot him before he could escape, but Fianna stopped them.

"Stop!" She commanded, causing them all to look at her in confusion, but her eyes were fixed on the figure. Perhaps it was the conversation with the servants, or the fact that the man had the exact same shade of hair as her children that encouraged her to let him live. None the less, she was going to. "Let him go."

"Your grace?" One asked to make sure of her decision.

"One man won't change the world," she said cryptically, shrugging. When the man was out of sight, she finally tore her eyes away, but was silent for a few minutes. Her body tingling with a sensation she knew not of.

Finally, she approached the remaining Bolton guards, still shook up for apparently no reason. Clearing her throat and composing herself, Fianna began to speak.

"You all know your choices. You can live and protect Baelfort for me and fight back against the traitorous bastard you serve, live in exile overseas or you can die. Here and now. Step forward if you wish to serve, step back if you wish to be placed on a boat. Stay where you are if your loyalty to a Lord who cares nothing for you is more important than your life."

The men were split equally, around a third stepped forward, and a third stepped back. She didn't kid herself into thinking those who chose to serve did so out of wanting the North back, but she accepted it anyway.

The guards unshackled those who stepped forward one by one, giving them a chance to bend the knee, which they did. Swearing an oath on their lives to House Bua and House Stark.

Those who stepped back were dragged away, to be placed in boats on the river that would lead to docks by the sea, were they would be sent to one of the free cities.

Those who remained, were dealt with swiftly.

"No! Eric, please just give in!" A woman from the remaining crowd of servants rushed forward and screamed, she was quickly held back by her fellow servants.

The man in question, the first in line to be executed, was tossed to the ground. Fianna's sword gleamed in her hands. She didn't believe in letting an executioner do her work for her. She had given the man a death sentence, she wouldn't allow someone else to bear the burden of taking a life.

Fianna looked back at the women, sadness coursing through her as her inconsolable state was one Fianna herself had been in. The difference is that if she had to choose between bending the knee to Roose Bolton and living with Robb or dying (thus permanently separated), she'd be on the ground begging to be spared.

With that, she lifted her sword high in the air and swiftly brought it down until it sliced through his neck with a sickening crunch.

The executions got too much for Fianna after the sixth, the blood coating her clothes and dusting her cheeks turned her stomach and her eyes were full from tears she refused to shed. She was forced to give in to pride and allow her guards to continue on themselves.

After almost an hour, it was finished. And it was a far more traumatising event that Fianna could have imagined. To kill a man in battle or defence was one thing, but to kill one that wasn't moving never mind fighting back, was quite another. She doubted herself at that minute and her decision, particularly where the bout of madness that allowed her to do that came from.

She stood in a silent daze when it finished, refusing to watch the last few and never lifting her eyes on the ground. Her thoughts drifted to her children, and whether or not their safety would be risked because of this.

"Your grace?" Lord Dustin asked lowly, watching her carefully. "What are we doing with the castle?"

Fianna snapped out of her stare off with the ground to look at the vast stronghold behind her that was probably quieter than it had ever been. Fire would be hard to burn through stone, but the wooden beams and roof wouldn't be.

"Burn it all."

By the end of the night, the Dreadfort was consumed in fire, along with the bodies that had once inhabited it.

* * *

 ** **I know what you're thinking... "seriously?"****

 ** **It's not time for Fianna and Robb to reunite. But I swear that they will, and you will see why when the next few chapters come out. Everything happens for a reason, as I always said. Everything from Tiernan saving Rickon to the conversation between Barristan and Daenerys at the start of this chapter.****

 ** **To recap, Bonifer Hasty and Rhaella Targaryen were in love and together before she was forced to marry Aerys. That's actually said in a Song of Ice and Fire. In this book I did reveal earlier that Bonifer was Fianna's grandfather, and in a conversation with Robb she told him how her grandfather left Westeros with a broken heart only to return later with a babe he had with a woman he married abroad, a woman who died on the boat to Westeros.****

 ** **There's more to come, but don't lose faith in me yet. Robb and Fianna will reunite. It's just not their time.****

 ** **Also, apologies for how late this is. So much has been going on, if I wrote the chapter before now it would be half-assed and I wanted to give it my all as it's the first real action packed one for a while.****

 ** **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed as always!****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this one! 3****

 ** **starevolution1273 - They didn't meet BUT on the bright side she did destroy the Dreadfort and officially entered the game of thrones! I hope you enjoyed this and I look forward to reading your reactions!****

 ** **Shannan - See how close I was to revealing that and you had to go and guess it already! Unfortunately they didn't meet, just narrowly passing each other once again. Not to worry though, there's something to happen Robb before he will meet Fianna again. And when they do meet, it'll be explosive. I look forward to your reaction, hopefully it's positive! Thanks for reviewing as always x.****


	38. (XXXVII) Brother Bonding

_Song: Crossfire by Stephen_

 _Roose_

Whatever brief satisfaction Roose Bolton felt when his son had arrived carrying the Greyjoy banners was distinguished the second he had gotten word of what happened at the Dreadfort.

He could place blame on himself for taking the majority of the Bolton men with him to Winterfell. He could blame himself for allowing Ramsay to take another significant portion to Moat Cailin. He could blame himself for not killing Robb and Fianna Stark when he had the chance. But alas, he chose to direct his anger at his bastard son. As he usually did.

"When that wench Fianna Stark escaped I had assumed she would be dead on the side of the road within a week. But no, not only did she make it home, she managed to sire half the North and be named the Queen of it," he erupted in rage, angrily gripping the wooden map board and flipping it off the table.

"The North already don't trust us," he continued his rant, "now they have a rebel queen to get behind, one who didn't bloody betray the king."

Ramsay stayed silent, not daring to speak up while Roose was in the mood that he was in. The elder man sat down then, running his hands over his balding head and down his thinned face. The war had aged him, it was easy to see.

"What's our options then?" Garrett dared to speak, albeit in a low enough voice. "War?"

"War?" Roose breathed a laugh in sarcastic amusement, "we have to assume that every Northern family that didn't come to pledge fealty to us are at her back. I heard she has an army of three _thousand_ gathered. If we march, we're marching to our deaths. Not to mention the Umbers, Karstarks and Flints could betray us at any second to join them. It's suicide."

"This is ridiculous, Fianna Stark is a girl. And a Bua one at that. Once we get Sansa Stark they'll have no option but to pledge fealty to us," Ramsay sounded out, his lip twitching when he spoke of the Bua traitor. He had spent months working on Robb Stark's psyche, it was safe to assume that she probably got her hands on him the second she took over the Dreadfort.

"If you wed Sansa Stark, your children will be the heirs to the North," Roose agreed, raising his eyebrows as he thought more about it. Out of nowhere, coming to a realisation, he sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Unless Fianna Bua already has the heir."

The rest of the men in the room looked on in confusion, waiting for their Lord to elaborate.

"If Fianna survived the escape and reached Baelfort, who's to say the babe she was carrying didn't survive too?"

"That would explain her outpouring of support..." Garrett agreed, his eyebrows raising in realisation.

"Attacking her directly won't work. Having you wed Sansa Stark won't work," Roose mused, rubbing his chin.

"So I won't be wedding her?" He asked tentatively. Myranda would be pleased, he thought secretly.

"I haven't decided that yet. When she arrives anyway we'll let her think that you are, and then we'll use her as a bargaining chip for the Bua girl. If she loved Robb Stark half as much as she let on, she won't let his sister be tortured, raped or killed. And if the Stark boy is with her again, he won't either."

"So what's our next plan of action?"

"We have to show them exactly how we deal with traitors to the crown."

* * *

 _Jon_

Stannis Baratheon was a serious man, Jon Snow could tell that from one look at him.

He was middle aged, with a thinning tuft of hair atop his head indicating so. His face bore lines that showed his many years, but there were no laughter lines to be sure. Jon doubted the man ever laughed.

When he reached the top of the wall where Stannis stood awaiting him, he turned slowly to look at him. Jon hated to admit he was half-intimidated by him.

"Your grace," Lady Melisandre spoke to get his attention, "the bastard of Winterfell."

 _What a lovely way to be introduced_ , Jon thought bitterly.

He knelt down immediately, knowing better than to piss off Stannis Baratheon - a man with a legitimate claim to the throne. He stood when Stannis gestured for him to, and stilled as Stannis remarked upon him.

"You know who rules at Winterfell now?" He began, not one for greetings.

"Roose Bolton," Jon replied, a sneer in his words. Stannis hummed in response.

"A traitor who plunged a dagger in Robb Stark," as if Jon needed a reminder. "Don't you want to avenge him?"

"I want a great many things, your grace," Jon sighed, "but I'm a sworn brother of the night's watch now."

"I will take back the North from the thieves that have stole it," Stannis promised, "Tywin Lannister is dead, he can't protect them now. I shall mount Roose Bolton's head on a spike. But if I'm to take Winterfell, I need more men."

And there it was, Jon realised, the true reason for his visit.

"The men of the night's watch are sworn to take no part-"

"I'm not talking about the damned Night's Watch," he huffed, a small smirk playing with the corners of his mouth, "I'm talking about Fianna Bua."

Jon's lips parted in surprise at his response. Stannis began to walk back towards the lift, not caring to elaborate leaving Jon to rush after him.

"Your grace," he began, his words forceful, "you want Queen Fianna's men to march in your army?"

"Her and her men just took down a stronghold that hasn't been touched in a thousand years. Her people are loyal to her, they see her as a Stark and she is one of your own. If she pledges fealty to me, I will name her Wardenness of the North and pardon her and her men of any treasonous acts of war."

"It's a fair offer," Ser Davos chimed in with him. "More than fair."

"I'll give them back the North and into the hands of someone they follow, if Fianna Bua bends the knee and pledges fealty to me."

Jon Snow had never met the elusive Fianna, who married his brother and apparently survived the Red Wedding. But he knew enough to know there was more of a chance of her jumping off the wall than there was of her bending the knee.

"I don't think that's likely," Jon told him honestly. Stannis smirked devilishly again, taking off once more and leaving Jon to follow.

"You admire her, don't you?"

"I respect her."

"Nothing sure she'll respect you, she married your brother and went to war for your family. Convince her to bend the knee."

"Your grace-"

"Or Baelfort will be the first place we attack."

With that, Stannis turned and left Jon standing. Stannis wouldn't dare attack Baelfort and lose more men than he could, but then again, tails of his gallantry and daring risks reached the wall too. He already attacked King's Landing, whether it was successful or not, Baelfort was minuscule in comparison.

Now he had a choice to make, he could persuade his good-sister to give up her crown after she had fought hard to earn it, or, he could stand against Stannis Baratheon.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The second she arrived back at Baelfort, Fianna wanted nothing more than to collapse in her bed and sleep for a week.

Her boots hit the ground after she dismounted her horse, and it wasn't long until she was greeted by the furry friend she left behind to protect her babies.

"Hello there," she spoke in a soft tone, leaning down and petting Grey Wind's head lovingly. He sniffed her relentlessly, eventually deciding that she was okay enough to step back.

Tiernan wasn't there to greet her when she arrived, instead the rest of the Baelfort occupants were, and were looking massively confused by the carriage of Dreadfort-born people that were to either help around the castle or join Fianna's growing army.

Fianna wasn't interested in making a speech about her victory, surely word had reached them by now, judging by the applause and cheers they received when the gates first opened to allow them inside.

All she wanted to do, was hold her babies and never let them go.

She bounded into the room, the wet nurse holding Eddie and gently rocking him to soothe his cries. Fianna's heart melted when she heard him, making her way over to carefully take him in her arms.

Being a mother had changed her, made her fiercer perhaps. Where before in a battle she fought viciously for a cause, now she fought tooth and nail to survive to return to them.

"Hello, sweet boy," she cooed, gently brushing his cheek with her finger. Doting on him, she then turned to young Aifric who was staring up at her mother with widened, curious eyes.

Fianna settled a now-soothed Eddie into the crib, and then picked up Aifric too - to spend equal time giving them both her attention.

She was in the middle of humming to the infant when the door to the nursery opened suddenly, and finally her absent cousin was revealed.

"Oh look who it is," she rolled her eyes, tone full of sarcasm, "you decided to say welcome back."

"Fianna, I've been handling the fucking _mess_ you've caused," he surprised her by the anger in his voice. She lifted her head up from her child to note his facial expression, which was entirely serious.

Settling Aifric back into the crib to sleep next to her brother, Fianna nodded to the wet nurse and made her way out to the hallway to speak with her cousin.

"What is it? What's going on?"

"Roose Bolton has retaliated already," he rushed, urging her to move down the hallway with him.

"Okay... we expected this, Baelfort is safe as far as I can see. What calls for your panicked state?"

"He didn't attack Baelfort," he looked at her with frantic eyes, finally having led her to the window where she could see a vast crowd, filled with men, women and children, waiting in the courtyard.

Each one looked worse for wear, crying and looking like they had been the ones to engage in battle.

"Who are they?" She asked worriedly.

"The inhabitants of Turnhall," he answered for her, "Bolton didn't go for us he went for the Mazins."

Fianna's jaw dropped in absolute horror, her hand falling to rest over her stomach.

"And they would have been unprotected, their men would have been at the Dreadfort with me..."

"It's also closer to Winterfell, it would have been a walk in the park for the Bolton's. Apparently the entire castle has been burned to the ground, he's going to go after houses who didn't pledge allegiance to him."

Fianna shook her head in frustration, anger fuelling through her veins.

"Fuck!" She swore angrily, scraping her hands through her hair.

"Your grace," a guard approached her suddenly, "Lord Henrick Mazin wishes to speak with you."

"Of course," she agreed, her heart hammering in fear of losing their support.

* * *

"We declared fealty to you so you would _protect_ the North, not allow the Bolton's to slaughter the innocent and burn down our homes!" Henrick raged on, as he had done for the last ten minutes.

"I'm sorry, my lord, truly," she pleaded with him, "all of your house are welcome to stay here!"

"And you think you'll have room after taking the Dreadforts bitches with you?" He spat sarcastically, red in the face from anger. Despite the fact it was aimed at her, Fianna understood his anger completely.

"You are all welcome to stay, should I have to give my own bed for your people to rest in one, we will take down the Boltons, my lord. Do not let this cloud our recent victory."

He shook his head, looking like he didn't believe a word of it and instead of arguing further, he chose to walk out of the room, fuming down the hallway.

Fianna let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, a familiar feeling of guilt coursing through her once again.

* * *

 _Jon_

"Who are you?" The guard asked the second he approached the gates on horseback, it was clear to see that Baelfort held quite a paranoid bunch inside, with more sentries than needed posted on every wall.

"Jon Snow, a brother of the Nightswatch. I've been sent to relay a message to Lady Fianna," he explained quickly, rather nervous by the attention placed on him.

"That's Queen Fianna to you," the same one called back.

The two guards at the gate looked at each other for a moment before looking at the rest of the area surrounding Baelfort's walls, to be sure it wasn't an ambush.

"Go on then," he called down finally, only opening the gate high enough for Jon to pass through, before then quickly shutting them again.

He was led by another guard then through the castle, barely been given a second to remark upon it.

Jon felt nervous all of a sudden, his hands clammy and his heart rate picking up. He was sent like a dog by Stannis to do his bidding, and to the woman considered his good sister of all people. A woman hell bent on getting revenge for _his_ brother.

He was led to a solar, which was surprisingly empty. Jon was led inside anyway and gestured at to sit down in a chair. He conceded and sat down, albeit nervously.

The same guard stayed there, stationed by the door. He supposed they were to wait for the Queen.

The door opened and Jon turned around in his seat, standing up immediately to greet her like a gentleman.

Fianna Bua-Stark was a rather beautiful woman, with cascading brunette curls and bright grey eyes that held a knowingness to them. She carried herself like a lady, but there was a set to her jaw and shoulders that relayed her underlying fierceness.

"Your grace," he greeted, rather awkwardly. Fianna was silent for a moment, processing her guest herself.

"Are you _the_ Jon Snow?" She asked, closing the solar door behind her.

"If by _the_ Jon Snow, you mean the half brother of your late fiancée then yes. Yes, I am," he nodded, wondering if it was proper etiquette to bow. He remembered bowing to Robert when she arrived at Winterfell, but he doubted Fianna would enforce it.

"Oh..." she kept her eyes on him, scanning his features. He wondered if she was looking for any similarities to Robb.

"So here we are," she stated, as she slowly walked past him and around her desk to sit on the other side.

"Here we are," he agreed.

"Is there a reason you came to see me or are you just interested in meeting me?" She questioned, looking slightly on guard.

"Stannis Baratheon sent me."

Her face twisted in confusion, trying to decipher this. Why would Stannis be at the wall, consorting with the night's watch?

"Why?"

"He wants you to bend the knee to him and get the North to fight for him," he admitted bluntly, without sugar coating. Fianna chuckled in shock and surprise.

"And why does he think I would agree to that?" She scoffed.

"He has offered, if you do, to name you Wardeness of the North and retake Winterfell."

Fianna shook her head, turning and looking out the window to the side, her eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"I'll hand it to him, he's got balls."

"Shouldn't all Kings have balls?" Jon asked.

"Perhaps, but I don't, do I?" She quirked her eyebrows. "If he managed to take back Winterfell and reclaim the North, then sit his pretty little arse on that Iron Throne and rule the seven kingdoms I'd imagine he wouldn't do a bad job of it."

Jon thought for a second that she was willing to agree to his terms, but of course it wouldn't be that easy.

"I'll never bend the knee. Not again. Not even if my kneecaps were ripped from my legs."

"The Northern families have bled enough Fianna, _you_ have suffered enough," he sighed, sitting back down in the chair finally.

"Yes I have," she tilted her head, "and that's exactly why I will be the one to do all that Stannis has offered to me. Except I'll be doing it as Queen, not the Warden of the North."

"You're stubborn I'll give you that," Jon shrugged, "I bet that led to some fights between you and Robb."

Fianna let out a low laugh, feeling good that she was finally able to discuss Robb with someone who actually knew him.

"I mean no offence, your grace, but I have been thinking over and over about it in my head, and I can't wrap my thoughts around why the North would name you their leader."

"If I tell you, I'll be telling the brother of my husband, not the envoy of Stannis Baratheon. Okay?" When he gave the slightest of nods, she proceeded. "Let's just say, I suppose my Queen title should be accompanied by another word. _Regent_."

Jon's lips parted in surprise, that was not a factor he ever considered would come into play.

"You birthed my brother's babe?" He asked in shock.

" _Babes_ ," she corrected, her eyes tinkling watching his reaction. "I am the mother to a son and a daughter. You're an uncle."

Jon shook his head, kicking himself for agreeing to come here at all and persuade the mother of his niece and nephew to give up her chance for revenge and a title that is rightfully hers.

"You came here to ask on behalf of Stannis and I have given you an answer. The people of the North have trusted me to lead them, if I take back Winterfell, I will do it myself."

"Will you promise me something, then?" He asked, causing her to tilt her head.

"What?"

"Promise me you'll avenge my brother."

Fianna's expression softened, she gulped before nodding her head with sincerity. "Of course I will."

It was a silent for a moment until Fianna gestured with a nod to the remaining guard in the room, prompting him to leave. Jon was confused and slightly nervous by the action, until the door opened again and a small voice sounded through the room.

"Jon?"

He whipped around in his seat with such force it knocked, eyes wide with shock as his youngest brother came into the room.

"Rickon," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion as he pushed forward and dropped to a knee in front of the smaller boy, who seemed so much older and taller now.

Rickon fell forward into his arms, the brothers clutching onto each other tightly and refusing to let go. They stayed like that for a few minutes, before Jon let go and turned to look at Fianna over his shoulder, who was in the middle of wiping away stray tears that had fallen.

"How?" Was all he could bring himself to ask, her lips lifted at the question.

"He's been here the whole time," she looked at him with a soft gaze. "My cousin found him after Winterfell was ruined, he's been staying here. We've kept him safe."

"Thank you," he murmured quietly, and Fianna nodded in return. Jon gave Rickon another tight hug before standing up straight, keeping one hand on his lost brother's shoulder. "And Bran?"

"We never found Bran," she shook her head sadly, "Rickon said that he went to the wall. I assumed he was going to you."

"He never made it," Jon murmured, pushing his sadness aside to look at his remaining brother and remind himself of the relief his presence provided. He never thought he'd see Rickon again, assuming him to be dead along with Robb and Bran. He also knew there was even more of a chance he wouldn't see Sansa or Arya.

"I'll give you two some time alone," Fianna murmured, making her way towards the door. "I'll be in the nursery with the twins, come later if you want to meet them."

Jon nodded at her before turning back to his brother, ready to spend all day, if he had to, with him.

* * *

Fianna was seated alone in the nursery a few hours later, trying not to doze off as she relaxed into the rocking chair positioned in the corner. Eddie and Aifric were asleep in either of her arms, dozing soundly.

Her head lifted when the door to the room opened, the candle lights of the room illuminating Jon's face as he entered and walked towards her.

"Your grace," he greeted with a nod, which she returned. She caught his eyes lingering on the small babes in her arms.

"You can hold one if you'd like," she offered. He paused for a moment in thought before eventually agreeing and moving forward to take Eddie from her arms, allowing Fianna to stand and put Aifric in the crib.

"What are their names?" He asked, gently rocking the sleeping babe who's head was tucked into his elbow.

"That's Eddie, short for Eddard, and this is Aifric," she gestured towards the other babe in the crib. Fianna crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her good brother interact with his nephew.

"Eddard and Aifric," he hummed, "controversial names." He dared to smile in amusement, the first smile Fianna had ever seen on him.

"And destined to be just as great," she smiled in return, enjoying the new relaxed atmosphere between them.

"He's got Robb's hair," Jon remarked, causing Fianna's smile to dim considerably.

"That he does," she sighed, any mention of her deceased husband still to this day would bring down her mood.

"I heard stories about the two of you, even at the wall. He loved you greatly, it seems."

"And I loved him even greater. He often told me about you, I always longed to meet you," Jon smiled again at her words, the ache in his chest of his brother's loss coming back in full force. The two of them had spent so long not talking to anyone about Robb, now that they were reminiscing about him, the pain was back. And as powerful as ever.

"I can't take Rickon with me," Jon said suddenly, his eyes still fixated on his nephew.

"I wouldn't let you even if you hadn't acknowledged that."

"He seems to be growing up well here, and he's well protected. He's too young to lose any more of his childhood than he already has by being forced into the night's watch. Especially with Stannis Baratheon staying there."

"We'll look after him Jon," she assured him, "I promise."

He responded by nodding and then stepping forward to her, gently jostling Eddie forward and handing him back to his mother.

"Are you leaving so soon? You're more than welcome to stay. Permanently, if you'd like," Fianna gushed, in truth she wouldn't mind if Jon had stayed. He was the only person who's grief she could relate to.

"I swore an oath," he explained with a shake of his head, "and besides, Stannis will expect me back soon or else I'll pay for it."

"It was nice to meet you then, Jon Snow," Fianna placed Eddie next to his sister so she could say goodbye properly, holding her hand out politely too him. He surprised her by ignoring her hand and taking her in for a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"And you, Fianna Bua."

* * *

 ** **Jon and Rickon finally had the reunion the show deprived us of!****

 ** **I hope you all liked his introduction with Fianna, and before anyone thinks it, no they will not become romantically involved. Their relationship is strictly familial and friendly.****

 ** **I also changed Stannis asking Jon to get the free folk to fight to getting Fianna to fight first, because it makes more sense strategically for him to ask someone that's hell bent on taking down the Bolton's instead of the free folk who have no ties to Westeros.****

 ** **No Robb this chapter but he'll be back soon!****

 ** **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and thanks as always to anyone who reviewed and read it! If anyone missed my author's note that I posted and now deleted, I have another book on my profile for Winter in my Heart where I'll post one shots for this story, the first one is up and it's a modern AU full of Robb/Fianna and some other characters too, read it if you're interested x****

 ** **ZabuzasGirl- Thanks so much! I hope you enjoyed this one too!****

 ** **Guest - Oh yes, really ;)****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Wonderful to hear! I hope you liked this one too x****

 ** **purple-pygmy-puff16 - so close yet so far :(****

 ** **starevolution1273 - I'm actually so glad that you agree it would have been too soon for them to meet again, the reunion I have intended for them is gonna be so big and it would have been wasted on the last chapter. I was worried others would be starting to get frustrated by that but I'm glad you agree it was too early! Thanks so so much for your review!****

 ** **Shannan- I kept that in mind by leaving Grey Wind out, there's no way he wouldn't have noticed Robb so he stayed behind to protect the kiddies. Thanks so much for reviewing as always, I always look forward to reading your theories! x****


	39. (XXXVIII) Impromptu Proposal

_Song: Castle by Halsey (Huntsman version)_

 _Jon_

To receive, as his elder brothers in the Night's Watch would put it, a 'bollocking' from Stannis Baratheon was almost like being told off by Catelyn Stark when he was a child. Except much worse, because there was nothing really stopping Stannis from having Jon killed.

Jon Snow stood, shoulders hunched and hands clasped in front of Stannis. He had prepared himself for a number of hours now for this very conversation, and he knew he would have to stand his ground.

"A king's word is law, Jon Snow," he began with, the tone in his voice the same as always - forceful and determined. "If Fianna Bua refuses to follow my commands, then she's a lawbreaker. You should ask Ser Davos how I deal with lawbreakers."

Jon cringed slightly, knowing full well the answer to that.

"With respect, your grace," he dared to reply, "Fianna is a Queen in her own right, too."

"She's a child. She may have gotten lucky with the Dreadfort but she's not fit to rule and the North cannot be left to its own dominion. Show too much kindness and people won't fear you, people that don't fear you don't follow you."

"Again, with respect, your grace," Jon's voice arose again, "after all that's happened the Northerners will never follow a Southern King again no matter what you do. Too much bad blood has been shed."

"Who then?" Stannis prompted. "The Free Folk?"

Jon had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculousness of his question. Upon returning from his visit to Baelfort, he came back to a pile of ashes that one made up Mande Rayder's body. Stannis had asked him to allow the Free Folk to fight for him, and hadn't received the answer he wanted.

"They won't follow you. You burned their king alive."

Stannis paused for a second, mulling over his thoughts with a bitter expression. He looked down to the desk and tugged over a scroll that had been opened already.

"Do you know this wretched girl?" He asked as he shoved the letter towards Jon's direction. "Lyanna Mormont?"

"The lord commander's niece," Jon confirmed, picking up the scroll.

"Lady of Bear Island, and a child of _ten._ I reached out to some of the Northern households, seeing if they'd be willing to betray their Queen for better terms than Fianna could offer and that was her response."

"Bear Island knows no King but the King in the North, whose name is Stark," Jon read aloud, ending in a breathy chuckle as he reached the end. She was just as fierce as her uncle, it seemed. And just as stubborn as a true Northerner.

"That amuses you?"

"I apologise, your grace," Jon forced formalities, "Northerners can be a bit like the free folk - loyal to their own."

"I know," Stannis agreed, "my brother Robert went off often and loudly about how difficult it was to control them. Even with your father's help."

It was silent for a moment, save for the ever present whistle of the wind through the castle. Ser Davos was the one to break the silence.

"Tonight, the Night's Watch elects a new Lord Commander. Ser Alliser Thorne is going to win."

"Most likely," Jon agreed.

"An unpleasant man, he thinks you're a traitor. What's your life going to be like here at the wall with Thorne in command?"

"Unpleasant, I expect," Jon admitted, knowing full well it would be so much more exacerbated than that.

"You make him look weak. And he'll punish you for it," Stannis chimes in. "I don't punish men for being brave, I reward them."

"I don't doubt it, your grace. But I am a sworn brother of the night's watch. I pledged them my life, my honour, my sword. I don't know what else I have left to give you-"

"You can give me the North."

Jon's breathing hitched at his words.

"I can't," he forced the words out, "even if I wanted to, I'm a bastard. A Snow."

 _And Robb has an heir,_ he was dying to say. But of course, he couldn't betray his good sister nor his nephew by putting their lives in jeopardy and making that public knowledge.

"Kneel before me," Stannis continued. "Lay your sword at my feet. Pledge me your service and you'll rise me again as Jon _Stark._ Lord of Winterfell."

His chest clenched at the words. There was a time he'd have given anything to hear that. To get rid of the name that tarnished his life since his birth and be seen as a trueborn Stark. Winterfell be damned, he would take the Stark name over a castle any day.

But his moral compass was too strong, he might have even considered it had he not met Fianna, Eddie and Aifric, and discovered his last remaining sibling was still alive and safe at Baelfort.

"Take some time to consider it," Stannis offered, dismissing him. Jon rushed out of the room, kicking himself for not refusing right away.

* * *

"He'll make you a Stark with a stroke of a pen?" Sam whispered in shock, later that day when they had all gathered in the hall.

"It's the first thing I ever remember wanting," Jon admitted. To anyone else, he would have been embarrassed to say it, but he knew full well Sam Tarly could be trusted. "I used to daydream that my father would ask the king, and just like that I would never be the bastard of Winterfell again."

"You deserve this," Sam encouraged, making Jon feel even guiltier for considering it at all. "You do. I couldn't be happier for you."

"I'm gonna refuse it."

"B-but... you'd be _Lord_ of Winterfell," Sam sputtered.

"I can't do that to Fianna, the North trusts her and she clearly knows what she's doing. Her son deserves to be the King in the North on behalf of his father and Fianna deserves her revenge, if I accepted this offer and persuaded the North to follow me I'd be denying them both of that."

Sam sighed, remembering the earlier conversation he had with his friend when he returned from Baelfort.

"And besides, I swore a vow to the Night's Watch. If I don't take my own vows seriously, what sort of Lord of Winterfell would I be?"

Sam was silent, choosing not to give an answer. In truth, he knew Jon well and was aware he would have made a great Lord. But he also knew Jon was fiercely loyal to family, and it seemed to him that as short as his visit was, it was just long enough to make him include Fianna and her children under that label.

* * *

 _Ike_

Stumbling about with a head wound that bled every time he raised his eyebrows too high or brushed it against a stray branch, Ike had become thankful for the pain. It distracted from the extreme cowardice feelings he felt.

He couldn't help but run the second he saw _her._ Ike was fully willing to die when he awakened amongst his deceased former comrades bodies, obviously having been suspected to be dead himself.

When he awoke, he stayed as still as he could, looking around to assess the situation. It was a small blessing that he sustained the head injury, because by being assumed dead he was left entirely unguarded. This left him with the opportunity to kill whoever was leading the entire operation.

But of course, that plan was only in place until he saw her.

Standing tall, her long brown hair pulled back into an intricate Northern braid to keep it out of her face - there was no denying it was Fianna Bua. Whether or not he had dreamed up a life with her, he still knew every curve and crook in her body. And knew when to recognise it.

Seeing her spooked him to his core.

He knew her to be dead, even seen the soaked stone that was stained with her blood. But to his eyes, she was standing clear as day. A ghost, perhaps, here to wrong him for his actions and the Bolton's for protecting him.

Ike had ran straight out of the gates and he had barely stopped since, not even when his legs and chest screamed with pain from the exertion.

It was a number of days later, when Ike's stomach growled with hunger that stray berries were not assisting and his throat ached with the dry itch of thirst, that he stopped by the river for a drink of water.

Along with the head wound, hunger and exhaustion, came a new feeling that he hadn't experienced yet - need.

Need for what, he did not know. It was almost as if he thirsted for water, but anything he drank seemed bland and couldn't quench the need. Perhaps he was just losing his mind.

As he cupped his hand into the river water and brought it to his mouth to sip, a voice that sounded out of nowhere in his ear scared him half to death.

"That water is not fit for a King."

He was so startled that he flew backwards, his bottom hitting against the dirt as he scrambled back to get away from his new acquaintance.

There she was, Fianna herself.

With a smirk he swore he'd never be able to conjure in his imagination, Fianna was crouched by the water, looking over her shoulder at Ike with the smallest of smirks.

"No, no, no, no, no," he muttered to himself, his hands flying out against the dirt to pick himself up and run again. "You're not real!"

"Oh come on!" She called out after him, he just about heard it, having already started sprinting out into the woodland again.

His heart hammered in his chest and tears pricked at his eyes in fear. It was true then, Fianna was a ghost who had returned to exact revenge for her murder.

Ike had been so preoccupied looking over his shoulder whilst running to see if she had been following, he hadn't noticed a particularly long branch at eye level with him. He ran straight into it, the force of the hit causing him to fall onto his back in the dirt, a throbbing pain blaring through the side of his head.

Ike squinted at the sky, trying to focus his vision through the pain. A face hovered over his own then, blocking out the sun.

"Now that one bound to have hurt," she commented, breaking into a breathtaking grin that he once doted on so much.

"Leave me alone!" He roared, overcome with grief and turmoil. Ike shook his head fiercely, his hands on the side of his ears and his eyes closed as he tried to will away the ghost of his victim.

When he opened them once more a few moments later, she was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"There is no way that this isn't a trap," Tiernan comments from the horse aside hers.

"I have half an army at my back and the other half protecting Baelfort," Fianna dismissed Tiernan's anxiousness, "if they want to fight now, we'll let them have it."

It had been three days since she received the raven from Winterfell. Signed by Roose Bolton, the new Lord of Winterfell, it requested she meet with him atop a hill that was halfway between Baelfort and Winterfell. He had promised that a discussion was all it would be, but Fianna was no fool and came prepared for battle, if it came to it.

Her blood boiled with anger just thinking about seeing his face again, and she hadn't even met him yet. She absolutely abhorred the man who betrayed her and her husband. Even more than she hated Walder Frey, for at least they should have known better than to trust him.

He was already waiting for her, a small garrison of about fifty men instead of an army at his back. The second she saw him in the distance, her hands tightened around her horses reigns until her knuckles turned white. The urge to whip out her sword and behead him where he stood on his horse was overwhelming.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he called out when she and her force came to a stop at a distance far enough that he had to shout to be heard.

Fianna chose not to answer, raising an eyebrow at him. Her teeth grit together furiously as she held back a string of insults and threats.

"I'm sure you're wondering why," he continued on anyway, "I believe that we can come to some sort of arrangement. Don't you?"

"No, I don't," she spat in reply, shaking her head slightly. Tiernan eyed the two carefully, the tension could be cut with a knife.

"I think you'll want to hear what I have to say," he smiled smugly, looking to his bastard son beside him and nodding his head once.

Fianna and her men stiffened, preparing for anything as Ramsay Snow turned and headed off into the crowd of men.

After a tense few minutes, he returned, with another horse beside him. As they neared closer, her eyes narrowed in on a young woman.

Her hair was fiery red, and she looked to be around Fianna's age - probably a few years younger. Her expression was stony but Fianna herself was a woman, and knew it to be a front to hide her fear.

"Fianna Bua," Roose began, gesturing to the lady that was now on his right, "meet your good sister, Sansa Stark."

She swallowed harshly as her eyes met the younger girls ones, her heart hammering at the revelation. Fianna saw it now, this 'Sansa' did bear a striking resemblance to Catelyn.

"Fuck you, Roose Bolton," she shouted furiously, unable to hold it in this time, it resonated with her men and it wasn't long before the Lords at her back were shouting insults at him too.

"You and I both know how hard Robb fought to win back his little sister," Roose gloated, happy with the reaction he received. "I'm sure you'll honour his memory and do what it takes to save her. Her life and her dignity that is."

The threat was clear as day, if Fianna didn't abide by his terms, he was going to kill Sansa Stark. If not worse.

"What is it you want hm? Do you want my pretty little crown? I think your head is too big for it," she taunted, the weight of the object on top of her head suddenly feeling much heavier.

"I know you have an heir, Fianna," he smirked, and his son practically beamed, all the while Fianna's blood ran cold. Tiernan looked over to her in horror, but she refused to give a reaction.

Her eyes scanned the crowd behind him, and that was when she noted Smalljon Umber. He had been at the first meeting Fianna called and had openly rebelled against her, her pregnant stomach was massively swollen at that time, too.

"Now that I've got your attention, I think you know what I want."

Fianna chuckled darkly, "you expect me to just hand over my son to you?"

"No, I expect you to hand over yourself. Surrender to us within a fortnight and you will wed my son, then we will let Sansa Stark go."

"Wed a bastard?" She forced herself to laugh, knowing it would insult them.

"Don't worry, my dear," the son in question replied, "I'm being naturalised by a royal decree."

"Isn't Tommen Baratheon a bastard as well?"

Sansa bit her lower lip to keep from giggling despite he situation, having said the exact thing herself to Ramsay mere days before.

"You have a fortnight to give yourself in, your grace," the formality felt like an insult and was probably intended to be.

As the Bolton crowd began to back away to return to Winterfell, Sansa and Fianna made eye contact again. The two had never met before, but Fianna had already fought to save her from the clutches of the Lannisters.

Knowing she couldn't call out to her at the risk of making both of them weak, Fianna settled for a small nod of her head to encourage her. A gesture her to tell her that she would be okay.

And although Sansa had never met her before, she knew that she finally had an ally who she could trust.

* * *

 _Jon_

The next time Jon and Stannis would meet to discuss, their roles were reversed. Where Stannis had been seated at Lord Commander Mormont's desk, it was now Jon, and he was the one to request the meeting.

Olly, his squire, opened the door to reveal the man in question. Who immediately greeted him, clearly anxious to hear his answer.

"Lord Commander."

"Your grace," Jon stood to meet him.

"I'd like to speak alone," he asked, obviously referring to the small boy in the corner.

"Olly is my steward now, as I was Lord Commander Mormont's," he explained, "I want him to attend my meetings, to learn from men with experience. One day he might command." Jon couldn't help but smile at Stannis's dumbfounded expression.

"Very well," he agreed after a moment, taking a seat. "Have you considered my offer?"

"I have," Jon admitted, "and I thank you for it. You do me great honour. All my life I wanted to be Jon Stark."

"Say the word and you will be."

"I have to refuse you, I'm Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. My place is here."

"I'm giving you a chance to avenge your family, to take back the castle where you grew up. To rule the North." It was clear Stannis was greatly disappointed.

"With all due respect, your grace. I have faith that Queen Fianna will do all of these things. And I wish I could fight beside either of you, believe me, I do. But I swore a sacred vow at the Godswood, I pledged my _life_ to the Night's Watch."

"You're as stubborn as your father," he retorted bitterly, "and as honourable."

"I can imagine no higher praise-"

"I didn't mean it as praise, honour got your father killed. But if your mind is made up, I won't try and persuade you," he stood up swiftly and prepared to leave, and Jon stood too, not finished with the conversation.

"Might I suggest, your grace, that instead of trying to get her to bend the knee that you join forces with Queen Fianna?" Jon offered, fearful that Stannis would attack Baelfort as he said.

"You want me to fight alongside traitors, when I, and only I, am the rightful king?" His voice rose in offence.

"You won't be the King if you don't have alliances," Jon pointed out. Stannis looked him over, before moving to turn around and leave again.

"Might I ask," Jon stopped him once more, "how long do you plan to stay at Castle Black?"

"Are you bored of us already?"

"You saved us from Mance Rayder's army, we will never forget that. But it's a question of survival. The Night's Watch can't continue to feed your men and the wildling prisoners, indefinitely. Winter is coming."

"I know it," Stannis sighed, the Stark words ringing true. "We march on Winterfell within the fortnight. Before the snows trap us here."

"And the wildlings?" Jon pressed

"They'd rather burn than fight for me, I'll leave their fate to you. You could execute them, it's the safest course. Or you can see if this Tormund fellow is more willing to compromise than Mance ever was."

"And.. Queen Fianna?" Jon dreaded to ask.

"Mhm," he hummed, his eyes downcast to the floor as he clearly mulled over his next move with regards to her. "I may just ask for her assistance. Not her fealty."

This time when he moved off to leave the room, Jon didn't stop him again.

* * *

 ** **Another chapter done and dusted!****

 ** **Just in case there's confusion, try to remember that I always slightly modify the timeline from the GoT canon story. I'll be flying through season five, so I just wanted to make sure everyone knew that.****

 ** **Don't forget that good ol butterfly effect coming in again, Fianna having the heir leaves it pointless to marry Sansa off to Ramsay as their children won't be the heirs to Winterfell. I hope you all don't mind that this effectively cancels out Sansa and Ramsay's marriage and him r*ping her.****

 ** **With regards to Robb, you'll see what direction he will be going in the next chapter. His appearance here is to show that his body became dependent on the basilik's blood, and now that he's completely deprived of it he's going through withdrawal and hallucinations.****

 ** **Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter, make sure to let me know your feedback or any theories you might have!****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - so glad to hear that!****

 ** **purple-pygmy-puff16 - Not to worry! Fianna won't be falling for ANYONE else in this book, it's strictly a Robb/OC and I feel like if she started getting with Jon it would be entirely out of character for her and invalidate the relationship they had. You'll see who Robb ends up with in the next chapter, and thanks so much for reviewing! 3****

 ** **reaganrose115- so glad to hear it! I hope you like this one too x****

 ** **starevolution1273- Ahhhh your excitement makes me so happy! He and Rickon deserved a reunion because RICKON DESERVED BETTER. I'm so glad you liked that one and I hope you feel the same for this and all the things to come, if you mean about my erratic updating lately I must apologise! I was extremely busy and the book was in a dark place and I found it quiet depressing to write. But now that it's picking up, I'm flying through writing and enjoying it again. I hope you can stick with me because I've got some exciting stuff coming ;)****

 ** **Shannan - Thanks so much for pointing out that mistake! I need all the help I can get for when it comes to the end of the book and I edit the whole thing. And I'm so glad you didn't mind I left out Rickon and Jon's conversation, I didn't feel like it was necessary to be included if I'm honest! Thank you for reviewing as always x****


	40. (XXXIX) Blood of my Blood

_Song: Mars by Sleeping at Last (a Robb/Fianna song if ever I heard one)_

 _Fianna_

"So here's the situation," Fianna Stark began, an authoritative tone to her voice that Tiernan only recognised at these dreaded meetings. "I have two weeks to surrender myself to the Bolton's, or else they'll kill Sansa Stark."

"How can we be sure they have Lady Sansa at all?" Wyman Manderly sounded out, equal looks of worry and anger on each and every one of their faces.

"They showed her to me, it's her. I know it."

"What happens if you surrender?" Lord Dustin dared to ask, earning glares from others in the room for even suggesting it.

"If I surrender, I'll be giving up the crown and wedded off to Ramsay Bolton. He'll be the regent for Eddie, who will be Lord of Winterfell some day, or he'll be the King Regent if he rebels against the Lannisters and keeps the Stark throne. The entire rebellion will be lost, but Sansa Stark will be safe," Fianna sighed towards the end, lowering herself to sit down in a chair.

"I say we let the girl die, one life over the entire North? There's no question about it!"

Lord Cerwyn's response received mixed replies, ranging from bellows of fury to shouts of agreement.

"How dare you even suggest that, Medger?" Fianna hissed in anger, "this entire rebellion was built on Robb marching to save his father and sisters. If we let Sansa die, and that's assuming they don't torture her or worse, then we have forgotten everything that we stand for. Every Northern life matters and especially Ned Stark's daughter, you'd do well to remember that."

Her words were enough to silence him, and even embarrass him judging by the red tint to his cheeks.

"It's too early to march on Winterfell, the men and women you enlisted are still in training, they'll never be able to take on the Bolton army at this level," Tiernan offered, having gained first hand knowledge after being one of the people assigned to train the newbies.

Training was divided between a multitude of people. After it was made known that Fianna was allowing anyone loyal, be they servant or knight, man or woman, to fight, there was a flurry of people answering the call. All signing up to fight for the North and for Queen Fianna.

Training was carried out primarily by the senior knights at Baelfort, Tiernan and even Osha - who assisted in helping with archery and hand-to-hand combat skills. Fianna, when she had the time, would also visit the training grounds to offer assistance where she could.

"There will be a day where we take on Winterfell," Fianna conceded, "but that day is not within the next two weeks. Anything we do now will have to be stealthy."

"Why don't we just kill him?" Lyanna Mormont, who Fianna had grown quite fond of, called to her. The girl couldn't have been more than ten, but from the very first day she proved to be the most loyal Northern subject she had ever met.

"Kill Ramsay Bolton?" Fianna asked.

"No, what good would that do? Roose Bolton can still have more kids. We kill Roose and we'd be cutting off the head of the Bolton force. There's bound to be people at Winterfell still loyal to the Starks."

Fianna mulled over it, looking around at the faces of the other Lords to gauge their reaction and finally at Tiernan, who tilted his head to show his approval.

"We can't attack Winterfell head on, if we have to kill him it'll have to be in a cowardly way and by someone on the inside."

"It's not how we work, my Lady," Hatrick Hornwood sensed her disapproval, "I'm aware. But this is a game of thrones, I mean no disrespect, but not every war can be won by fighting battles in the field."

Fianna nodded her head once in acknowledgement, after the Red Wedding it wasn't how she preferred to do things at all. She liked her battles, bloody and fair. But to deny the chance to kill someone that hadn't offered her husband a fair chance of survival, would have been foolish.

"Then it's settled," Fianna pressed her hands on the map, her eyes fixed on the small area representing Winterfell. "We kill Roose Bolton, and rescue Sansa Stark."

 _Ike_

The woman appeared yet again while he was making his way through the woods, Ike was now seeing her more often than he wasn't.

"Go away," he grumbled in annoyance, hearing the pitter of feet next to him once again.

"I just want to know where you're going!" She protested, a false innocence in her voice.

When Ike chose not to answer her, she groaned and asked once again where he was going. Except this time, it snapped something within him.

"I don't know alright!" He bellowed and whipped around to face her. Ghost or not, she was still as beautiful as he remembered her to be.

No, he pushed the thought aside. His feelings for her got him into this position in the first place.

"The Dreadfort is gone, if Ramsay finds me he'll have me killed, if he doesn't find me I might die anyway! Everyone in the North would love to see my head on a spike, so I'm having trouble figuring out where I should go!"

Her eyes were wide with surprise by the time he finished, he almost felt guilty but laughed the notion off. Why should he feel guilty for telling off the madness inside his brain that was taking physical form in Fianna?

Ike turned back and continued on the small foot trail through the woodlands, walking faster than before and more determined. When he looked back over his shoulder, she was gone.

But by the time he turned his head back, there she was again - this time standing right in front of him.

He jolted back in shock, before rolling his eyes and moving around her. She blocked each of his attempts to move past by stepping in front of him each time.

"You know where you have to go," she told him, knowingly. His eyes narrowed in frustration.

"No I don't, move."

He didn't dare touch her for fear of what he'd find, if he'd feel her soft skin or if he'd feel nothing but air - he didn't know which scared him more.

"Yes you do, Robb."

The name made him stop in his step to the side, his eyes widened with an emotion he was unable to name.

"Don't call me that," Ike forced himself to say, and she raised an eyebrow in response.

"Why not, Robb?"

"Because that's not my name," he shook his head, eyes looking back and forth between her grey ones. It was simply the madness inside, he tried to tell himself, the same madness that let him convince himself he actually was Robb Stark.

"Isn't it?" Fianna pressed, her voice dropping to a whisper. They held eye contact for a moment, anxiety filling Ike's body. He twitched in surprise when she moved away then, walking past him in the opposite direction he was heading.

Ike paused for a moment, before deciding to follow her. But once more when he turned to see her, she had disappeared again.

 _Bran_

It had been months since Jojen's death, and training had been emotionally and physically draining. Most of all - frustrating.

The things the three-eyed raven allowed him to see were of little importance, mere tidbits of the past and never of his family. Every time he asked, he would tell Bran that the day would come when he was allowed to see his family. But not yet. He wasn't ready yet.

Bran lay down once again amongst the branches in the dark and gloomy cave, preparing himself for another vision and training session.

When instructed to do so, his eyes rolled back and he entered the trance like state he had been working so hard to keep himself in as of late.

This time, he arrived in a small, stone-walled house. He looked around eagerly, wondering who's life he was intruding on this time.

"Where are we?" Bran asked the Three-Eyed Raven, who was stood next to him as solemn and as quiet as ever.

All of a sudden, a tinny knock sounded at the door, and a man who he hadn't seen seated on a wooden chair in the corner shot up instantly, marching towards the door eagerly.

He was tall, with a tuft of dark brown hair atop his head supported by a strong, muscular body that suggested he was a physical man.

He whipped the wooden door open and quickly ushered in whoever was on the other side. Bran took a few step forwards and saw a woman. His eyebrows furrowed in curiosity when he noted her appearance. She was an older woman, with greying hair and clothes that suggested she was a servant or a maid, instead of a Lady.

"She didn't come?" The man asked her, his voice sounding audibly dejected.

"She couldn't, the King is already suspicious of her behaviour as of late. The pregnancy has been difficult to conceal," the maiden gushed, and it was then that Bran noted the bundle of blankets in her arms.

"Is she alright?" The man asked, full of anxiety and worry. Bran was left to wonder who this woman was, and which king they were referring to.

"She's doing well, don't worry," she reassured, then nodded her head down to the bundle. "Are you ready to say hello to your daughter?"

"Who are these people?" Bran asked, but he may as well have been talking to a stone wall, for all the responses he would receive. Or lack thereof.

The man looked emotional then, nodding his head quickly and holding his arms out. The woman stepped forward and carefully shuffled the blankets, that Bran now realised held a baby inside, into his waiting arms.

"She's beautiful," he cooed, his eyes starting to fill with tears - over the baby or its mother, Bran was unsure of. "Did Rhaella tell you a name for her?"

"No, but she did leave me with a letter to give you, perhaps a name is detailed inside," the maiden rifled inside of a her apron for the letter addressed to the man in question, handing it over after finding it.

Cradling the baby in one arm, the man in question opened the scroll using his free hand and read it accordingly.

Bran pushed forward, ready to read the letter in the man's hand, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"It is time to go," the three-eyed Raven finally spoke, but his words were not ones Bran longed to hear.

"No, I have to know-" Bran refused stubbornly, overcome with curiosity about the contents of the letter and the identity of the man ever since he discovered Queen Rhaella was the mother. And it was clear that King Aerys was not the father.

"I'll leave you be, Ser Bonifer," the maiden bowed her head, but 'Bonifer' was too engrossed in the scroll to acknowledge it.

And that was where the vision ended.

 _Ike_

He hadn't seen Fianna in over a day, and he found he was starting to miss the incessant comments she would come out with. As hard as it was to get rid of his 'obsession' with her, it was even harder to deny that he still felt all the same feelings for her and these visions were only reaffirming it.

The hunger was unbearable now, he hadn't eaten since he managed to catch a rabbit two days ago and cook it over a fire. Now his stomach would painfully cramp from the emptiness inside it, combined with dehydration and exhaustion, he was on the verge of passing out.

Ike walked for a while longer, but within no time at all he collapsed to the ground, dry heaving from the condition his body was in. The fall had reopened the wound on his head, and blood once again dripped down his face.

Ike's vision switched in and out, fading to black as he let sleep overcome him. Just before he dozed off, he thought he heard the faint sound of voices from a distance.

 _Thoros_

"We agreed long ago that we would have nothing to do with these high Lords or Kings", Thoros of Myr had been arguing relentlessly with Anguy for a number of hours over the same topic.

The Brotherhood had agreed once that they were never to take up arms with any King in this war, as they saw no King fit enough to look out for the needs of the common folk. But since the emergence of a Northern queen, Anguy had been persistent in insisting that she was different.

"But Fianna Stark isn't a King, she's a Queen," Anguy argued back smartly, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"It doesn't matter if she's a fucking bear, we made an agreement!"

Thoros stopped in his step to turn and face his opponent and friend, both failing to notice that Beric had happened upon something.

"Well if she's looking out for the commoners too then clearly we're on the same page!" Anguy began to shout, ignoring Beric as he knelt down.

"Quit your bitching and take a look at this!" Beric shouted to them, waving his hand for the group to come over and see what he had found.

The arguing had ceased for the mean time, the others following his order and approaching him from behind.

"Who's that?" Anguy asked, his head tilted as he remarked upon the body of a man laying in the dirt.

"Is he dead?" Thoros asked, kneeling down next to the head and dangling his fingers underneath the man's nose to feel for breath. "He's breathing, anyway," he remarked, grabbing his canteen of water strapped to his hip and gesturing to Beric to roll the man onto his back.

When that was done, Thoros slipped his hand behind the man's head and tilted it upwards, before letting some of the water from his flask slip into the man's mouth.

Within seconds, the water caught in his throat and caused him to shoot up and start to cough.

"There's a good man, take a breath," Thoros commanded calmly, slapping the younger boy on his back to rid him of the water in his airway. Within a few seconds, he was able to breathe again, and was looking upon the group with great confusion.

"Who are you guys?" Ike asked, his entire body tensing up.

"The question is, lad, who are you?" Beric chose to ask instead.

 _Fianna_

"This is such a massive task, Conor, you have no idea how much of a risk you are taking," Fianna remarked sadly, placing her hands on Conor's shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

She never wanted to be a leader that allowed others to do her dirty work, but it was imperative that whoever would infiltrate Winterfell wasn't easily recognisable, and that ruled out Fianna, Tiernan and the entirety of the Northern Lords.

It was then that Conor had offered himself, he had grown up at Baelfort alongside Fianna and Tiernan, but it was Tiernan that he was closest to.

"Don't worry, Fee-Fee," he joked, using Fianna's childhood nickname, "if I die, I will die for something I believe in. There is no greater honour."

"You're not going to die, you silly bastard," Tiernan forced a laugh, trying to appear nonchalant as he clapped Conor on the back. "Dragonfire couldn't even touch you."

"You're like a bloody cockroach, you'd survive a giant stepping on you by laying eggs and continuing your line," Fianna joined in.

Conor laughed heartedly, ignoring the seriousness of the mission. If he didn't succeed, the Northern rebellion would die. For there was no way Fianna was allowing Sansa Stark to be butchered.

As they said their goodbyes and the gates were raised to allow him leave via horse, Fianna and Tiernan wrapped their arms around each other, saying silent prayers that he was successful and that nobody had to die for it - other than the Bolton's of course.

When the gate was lowered again to seal them inside, Fianna spotted a movement in the far distance just before her vision was cut off by the gate.

Just as she realised it, the guards on top of the wall did too, and the warning bell began to ring out.

"Incoming!" One guard shouted.

Fianna, with her heart hammering in her chest, shot off towards the ladder leading to the top of the wall, Tiernan at her tail.

"How many?!" She shouted, desperately moving faster to get a look for herself.

"Just one that I can see, your grace!" The nearest guard replied, holding his hand out when Fianna reached the top ring of the ladder to help her onto the wooden platform.

Fianna looked out, her eyes fixed on the lone rider hurtling his way on horseback towards Baelfort.

"It could be a distraction," she warned, moving her gaze to search all around. "I want checks from every guard on the wall, now!"

"Yes, your grace!" He sputtered in response, before moving around the square walls of Baelfort to every guard position for their reports.

He returned within ten minutes, and by then the rider was at the gates. Fianna kept her gaze fixed on him, barely glancing over as the guard returned.

"Your grace," he panted, out of breath, "this is the only one in sight, perhaps it is just a visitor."

"Perhaps," she agreed, as the gatemaster began to call down to the rider, "but I still want everyone to be on high alert."

"Who goes there!" The gatekeeper questioned.

"Ser Bonifer Hasty! I have come to meet with my granddaughter!"

Fianna turned and made eye contact with Tiernan as he said this, their eyes wide with shock.

"Ask him to prove his identity," Fianna whispered to the gatekeeper.

"Prove yourself!"

"Tell my granddaughter," he replied with a wide grin, teeth gleaming in the dark despite the lack of light hiding his features, "that the birth mark on her shoulder- I've realised that it looks like a shield!"

Fianna's eyebrows scrunched as her fingers ran over the mark on her shoulder, a mark only close family members would have seen.

"Let him through and close the gate after," she whispered again, trailing towards the ladder and heading back down it.

"Fianna, is that a good idea?" Tiernan asked in a panic.

"Probably not!"

When she reached the bottom of the ladder, the gate was reaching the top and revealing the man of the hour, who promptly stepped inside the grounds of Baelfort.

Now in the lit up courtyard, she saw him more clearly. Fianna watched intently as he stepped down and dismounted from his horse, adjusting his armour and turning to Fianna with a small smile.

"Hello, granddaughter."

 **So the cat's out of the bag, although I feel like most people knew anyways by now - but yes, Fianna's mother is Rhaella's daughter. This makes her mother (Miriam is her name if anyone forgot) a half sister to Dany, so Dany is Fianna's aunt and Jon is Fianna's cousin. Got it?**

 **For those that may think this came from nowhere, I've quite literally built this reveal up since the very first chapter, like talking about how much Fianna looked like her mother, or when Fianna was reading the book about the Targaryen family and remarked on how her eyes were grey like theirs. Or basically every conversation Barristan Selmy had with Daenerys in this book. Or Fianna's vision of Daenerys when she was giving birth. Or the sheer amount of times someone's called Fianna a mad queen.**

 **It's also not that improbable, for those who have read ASOIAF you'll know that Bonifer Hasty is a real character who did have a relationship with Rhaella, and that they were separated by her betrothal to Aerys. It's also speculated that Bonifer is Rhaegar's father too, so I don't feel an illegitimate pregnancy is that left field or a stupid plot point.**

 **Don't worry though, at the end of the day, Fianna is a Bua, NOT a Targaryen. This doesn't mean she's about to jump ship and go to Meereen, it's just a small tidbit of information about her. It makes her connected to Jon and Dany, plus Dany deserves another family member to make a connection with. Just not in the way she connected with Jon. Yikes.**

 **And there are three dragons after all ;)**

 **Kidding. Her being Rhaella's granddaughter won't change that much about this story and the direction it's going. You'll just have to see what happens when Dany comes to Westeros.**

 **Also, Robb is now officially with the Brotherhood and freed from the Boltons!! He doesn't deserve any more torture, so he's just gonna grow from there and eventually find his way back to Fianna.**

 **I hope everyone liked this chapter, I feel like I've built this up for so long if nobody likes it I'll be heartbroken! And thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the precious chapter 3**

 **reaganrose115- I hope I lived up to the last chapter then! x**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - your wish is my command!**

 **BigWilly526 - RICKON WAS ROBBED**

 **Shannan- I've never said that a Stark will die because Rickon is saved, but I won't rule it out right now either just to keep you guessing. The timeline can be confusing, but all I can say is that the battle of the bastards will happen and it'll (hopefully) be epic. I know, I couldn't make Robb suffer much longer!! At least now with the brotherhood and away from the basilik's blood he can only grow from here. Thanks for reviewing as always, looking forward to your theories and comments.**

 **starevolution1273 - Jon and Fianna will grow closer too! Especially since now I've revealed their cousins! And of course, Fianna wouldn't let Sansa rot in Winterfell. She loves the Starks and she's close to Rickon and Arya already, she'd give herself up before letting Sansa die. But of course, she won't do either ;) yeah it did have kind of a humorous atmosphere with Fianna kinda annoying Robb! I'm glad you liked the previous chapter and I really hope you like this one too, thanks so much for reviewing x**

 **LCluvanime - Thanks so so much! I usually update within a week (or I try to!)**


	41. (XL) Wine is Thicker Than Blood

_Song: End of an Era by Zach Hemsey_

 _Fianna_

"What are you doing here?" Fianna jumped to ask before Bonifer's feet had even made an imprint in the dirt of Baelfort's grounds.

"Well," he breathed, a large smile taking over his face, "you're a quick one, aren't you? Isn't it customary for the Lord or Lady to formally greet a guest and offer food and wine?"

"For a Lord yes, but I'm a queen," Fianna bit back, her body tensed up with paranoia. He may have been a blood relation, but she knew Westeros well enough to realise that didn't always mean something. She also wasn't quick to forget the fact he was absent long enough from her life for her not to even remember his face.

"Ah yes, you and about three others," Bonifer brushed off with a sarcastic tone, walking around Fianna and heading towards the entrance. He stopped in his step when he realised that Fianna wasn't following him.

"Come on then, young one," he called to her, "we have a lot of catching up to do."

Fianna forced her feet to move forward, catching Tiernan's eye and sharing a look with him as she followed after her maternal grandfather.

She allowed him to lead the way until he entered the great hall, presumedly heading towards staircase leading to the bed chambers upstairs.

"Enough," she called out to him, the door falling closed behind her and shutting her and her grandfather inside the room - alone and together. "I want to know what you're doing here."

Bonifer let out a sigh, raising his eyebrows tiredly and moving to sit in the bench seat at one of the tables intended for guests. He gestured with his hand for her to sit across from him, which she did so reluctantly.

It was silent for a moment, the two relatives taking each other in. Fianna felt emotional all of a sudden, she only had two remaining family members by blood and here one was - seated across from her like a stranger.

"I know I haven't been a part of your life," he began with, looking down at his clasped hands for a moment. "You have to understand, Fianna, you don't know how hard life has been for me since I lost your mother. I used to visit this castle all the time, to intimidate your father if nothing else. I loved your mother very much, she was all I had in the world."

"Then why did you shut off the only connection you had to her?" Her eyes began to water as did his, a lump forming in her throat.

"Because, I think in a way I blamed you. I blamed you for her death, and I know that's wrong, but I couldn't help it. When you become a parent, I pray you'll never understand the pain of losing your child before their time."

Fianna forced herself to look away from him, staying silent and staring to the side as her body shook slightly with unshed sobs building in her chest. She didn't correct him, not trusting him enough with that information.

"So why are you here now?" She asked quietly, working up the courage to meet his eyes again.

"I heard stories about you," he smiled wistfully, his face twisting into a sad smile of his own, "the 'She-Wolf' of the North. The people of the South never stop talking about you, about your beauty, your fierce nature, your intelligence. And I always thought to myself, 'wow, maybe she is more like her mother than I thought'. Looking at you now, you certainly look like her. But then I would hear other stories, about how you could be cruel, how you murdered Roslyn Frey in cold blood. And that made me wonder if you were more like your grandmother's family, than ours."

"My grandmother from overseas?" Fianna asked, a sudden curiosity in her voice.

"Look," Bonifer began, squeezing his hands together nervously, "there's something you need to know. I never told your mother, and I'll regret that every day of my life. Because she deserved to know, but I didn't want her to think that her mother never wanted her. If she knew she was a bastard it would have ruined the life she set up for herself, Cillian may never have married her and they would never have had you."

"Hold on," she back tracked, eyes narrowing, "a 'bastard'? My mother was base-born?"

"Yes," he admitted, his lips pursing - suggesting there was more to it than he let on.

"Well.. then who was her mother?" Fianna swallowed harshly, preparing for his answer to be a lowly common girl he was ashamed to admit to being with.

It took a whole minute for him to respond, and when he did, Fianna wished he never had.

"Rhaella Targaryen."

Her primary reaction was to laugh, or wonder if he had reached a state of madness. But after a moment had passed and Fianna realised that Bonifer was very much not joking, her amused smile began to dim.

"Is this some kind of joke? A little 'ha-ha, the Buas hate the Targaryens lets convince Fianna she's related to them'?" She scoffed, pushing her body out of the bench to stand up next to the table, her eyes fierce as she stared down her grandfather.

"It's no joke, Fianna," he held his hands in the air, moving to stand too. "Rhaella and I... we loved one another. But she was betrothed to Aerys, and I was just a Knight. Her parents never have allowed me to wed her."

"So you just bed her instead?" Fianna hissed, her eyes wide with absolute shock. Her mind couldn't help but wander to a place of self-pity, where she wondered if the surprise twists, the shocking outcomes and the threats to her life would ever stop.

"I'm sure you of all people can understand how it feels to love someone who belongs to another!" His voice began to rise in volume.

"Do _not_ compare Robb and myself to your illegitimate affair with the bloody Targaryen queen!" She started to shout in return, the tension between them rising.

"I'm telling you this for your own bloody good, you'd do well to accept it as such!"

"Oh really?" She laughed sarcastically, "pray tell, what good does this bring me? This shite will not _leave_ this hall! I named my own daughter Aifric and you expect me to just take this news with a smile and a nod?! The North _hates_ the Targaryen family! Lest us not forget they burned Robb's grandfather and uncle to death and kidnapped and raped his aunt!"

Bonifer, too in the heat of the moment to notice she had mentioned a daughter, only added fuel to her fire.

"I'm telling you this because you need allies, girl! You think you're going to win this war with a few thousand Northerners and a strong will?! What do you suppose will happen when you take down the Bolton's? Will the Lannisters just accept it and allow the North to rule as it's own dominion?Don't be a fool, child!"

"Do _not_ call me a fool and do _not_ call me a fucking child!" She pointed her finger at him angrily, her face reddening from the outburst. "I don't know what kind of delusions you've gotten yourself into by thinking that my lineage will earn me allies after everything Aerys Targaryen done, but I don't want to hear any more of it!"

"Oh is that right?" He narrowed his eyes, his tone dropping to a deadly one, "so you don't want to hear about your estranged Targaryen aunt? The one who rules Meereen with an army and commands _three_ dragons?!"

"What?" She whispered, all essence of anger gone - only to be replaced by further confusion.

"Rhaella had another babe before she died, a girl. She escaped overseas. And now she's been hailed a queen. Daenerys Targaryen commands an army and with three dragons at her back, if she decides to cross the Black Sea, nothing will stop her from taking back Westeros. If you were wise, you would join forces with her and let the Buas be on the winning side of history for once."

Fianna wiped her face viciously, her mind reeling with the revelations of the last few minutes. After taking a breather, she settled down and looked back to her grandfather.

"I sing songs to my children about Aifric Bua. The North is not going to bend the knee to this Targaryen family, and no one is going to find out what we've discussed here today."

* * *

 _Conor_

It had been three entire days since he arrived in Winterfell, and locating Sansa Stark was more difficult than one would expect.

Perhaps it was because he had been disguised as a lowly guard, patrolling the walls of Winterfell and never getting a chance to venture anywhere _near_ Sansa Stark's chambers.

Slipping into Winterfell was far easier than one would think, he had captured and killed a guard that was patrolling the outer perimeter, and from there he could trail back inside with his new disguise. He even carried a dead deer in his wake, for no one would suspect an intruder would be hunting leisurely around Winterfell.

The next difficulty he came across was finding a place to insert himself where he wouldn't be questioned. This proved to be far too easy of a task too.

By sheer luck, Roose had ordered that more guards be sent to look out - obviously fearing an attack from Fianna any day now, which amused the Baelfort native. He had grown up with Fianna, and from the squalling child she once was, she grew into a woman that men feared.

So to hold a temporary position that would rule out any suspicion, he slipped into the group that was recruited and pretended to be one of them. Unfortunately, ever since his arrival, his days consisted of staring out amongst the fields and hoping that someone _would_ attack.

It had been a week since Ramsay had given Fianna an ultimatum, and the pressure of completing the job before then weighed heavily on his shoulders.

His saving grace, however, had come in the form of a small, elderly woman. While he was seated at a table, indulging in food and drinking cheap wine one night, he was approached by her. She slid casually in to sit next to him, eating her food inconspicuously whilst murmuring to him under her breath.

"I know you're not from here," she had whispered, forcing him to clamp down on a reaction.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Conor muttered back, shooting her a look before returning to his food.

"I can see it from a mile off, the tenseness in your shoulders, the way your eyes dart around - almost as if you're waiting to be discovered," she smiled wryly, proud of herself when his body tensed up.

"Listen, my lady, I don't know what you think. But-"

"You were sent by her weren't you? By.." she leaned in a little to whisper even quieter, "...Queen Fianna. Not to worry, young man. I, too, am in support of her."

Conor watched her for a moment, trying to suss out whether she was being deceitful or not.

"I'm a chambermaid for Lady Sansa, if you're here to help her escape, I would very much like to help. I can relay a message to her."

Conor threw caution to the wind and swallowed harshly, leaning in to her ear and swiftly looking around for any listening ears.

"Tell Sansa Stark that the North remembers, and the North has come for her. And when I give her the signal, be ready to run."

* * *

 _Ike_

They had set up camp for the night, a small campfire blazing in a clearing in the trees.

Ike had been seated at the fire, eating food they had given him and nestling into the blanket draped around him. He ignored the sound of whispers coming from around him, knowing they were all curious about the man. He overheard theories shared, whether he was a lowly servant escaping from a cruel Lord or a survivor from the sack of the Dreadfort.

It was Thoros who decided to approach him finally and ask him outright.

The older man took a seat next to him on the damp ground, taking out a flask filled with wine from a compartment in his belt and lifting it to his lips. Without speaking, he held it out to Ike, who took it from his grasp and had a swig of his own.

"So, everyone's whispering about where ya hail from," Thoros began, his eyes. "Want to wet their curiosity by telling us?"

Ike shook his head, his jaw set fiercely. That was a secret he'd keep to the grave.

"That's fine, plenty a man here have a dark past they don't fancy telling anyone about," Thoros shrugged, not caring too much for the man's history. "But you need to tell me if you're planning on sticking around, cos we're gonna need you to pull your weight if you do."

It was Ike's turn to be suspicious, turning his head to his companion and looking him over.

"Who are all of you?" He asked, his gaze moving to trail around the rest of the group - who not-so-subtly looked away to avoid being caught staring.

"We're the Brotherhood without Banners," Thoros answered, moving to elaborate when Ike looked back in confusion, "we follow no King. Or _Queen,_ " he emphasised, shooting another man a very directed look. "We look out for the safety of the common people."

"Oh," Ike's eyebrows furrowed in thought, it surely sounded like an ideal group to mingle with, but he knew better than to trust anyone off the bat these days.

"If you wanna join us there's some rules you got to follow," he continued, taking another gulp of wine into his mouth, "and if you break one of them, you die."

"Sounds like home," he answered back sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. He realised it was probably the first time he had made a joke in months.

"We're called brotherhood for a reason, not the 'best friend band'," Thoros chuckled heartily, shaking his head as he looked forward.

"If you have any hope of joining us though," he went on when Ike didn't reply, "you need to tell us your name at least."

"R-" Ike stopped, checking himself and wondering why that name had been the first to come to mind. "Ike. My name is Ike."

"His name is Ike, lads," Thoros called out to their nosy spectators, "you can take your head out his arse now trying to find out!"

Ike found himself chuckling, the sound foreign to his ears. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, that maybe he could finally relax. For a few minutes, at least.

"So," he began again when the laughter died down, "where is it we're going?"

"Wherever we're needed, mate."

* * *

 _Fianna_

It had been a week since Bonifer had arrived. Fianna had told him that he was allowed to stay there for the week, and he seemed to be abiding by that from what she could see out of the window. The stable master was preparing his horse that he had rode here on just days before.

Fianna watched silently from the window, the past week she had spent all her time training the new additions to her guard, doting over her children and praying in the Godswood for Conor's safety. She barely saw Bonifer other than at meal times, both were as stubborn as the other it seemed when it came to bridging the gap.

Fianna felt a presence approach her from behind, and promptly ignored it. Assuming it to be Tiernan. When the presence spoke, the contrasting deepness of his voice startled her.

"Fianna," Bonifer greeted to capture her attention, causing her to jump slightly and turn around to see her grandfather.

"I'll be leaving shortly, I thought it best to bid you farewell," he added, his downtrodden expression saddening her.

"Okay..." she whispered, trying to quieten the small part of her that wished she had spent the week getting to know her blood relative.

"I just wanted to give you this," Bonifer began, unclasping a sword scabbard at his hip and bringing it in front of him. Fianna watched with scrunched brows as he then gripped the handle and took it out of its holding.

She gasped immediately upon seeing it, it may have been nigh on three years but she would recognise her family's sword anywhere.

"Wolfsbane?" She questioned, this was the last thing she expected to see him hand to her. "But... this was taken from me when I was held captive at Harrenhal... how did you get this?"

"Well, after Stannis Baratheon attacked King's Landing, I survived and was forced to join Joffrey Baratheon's force. I overheard a man bragging about how he had the sword of the Queen in the North. So that night, I snuck into his tent and killed him with it."

She couldn't help but let out a low chuckle at his words, "anything for family, I guess."

He held the longsword in both of his hands, presenting it to her. Fianna's heart raced as she wrapped her hands around the handle, lifting it into the air to admire it. It didn't feel as heavy as it once did, but she supposed that she was stronger and more capable of holding it now. Perhaps even more worthy.

"I truly meant it when I said I came here to help you, Fianna," Bonifer sighed, "we didn't exactly get off on the right foot. But you're the only family I have left. And I want you to win. You, of all people, deserve it."

Her eyes watered without permission, she bit the inside of her cheeks to stop from full on crying at his words and the emotion they held behind them.

"And now I find out that you're a mother as well, and I, a great grand-father. If you still wish me to leave, I will. But if you'd allow me, I would really like to stay and guide you in any way that I can. And to meet my great grand-children, of course."

Instead of answering immediately, Fianna turned and placed her returned blade down on the window seat, carefully. There was no need for hesitance, nor did she have to consider her options. Fianna merely closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around her grandfathers shoulders tightly. He responded right away, wrapping his arms around her in return.

"Of course you can stay."

They shared the embrace for another couple of moments before pulling away, faces flushed and full of emotion. Fianna swiped her fingers under her eyes to wipe away stray tears, breaking into a wide smile as she did so.

"Now, are you ready to meet the twins?"

* * *

 _Ramsay_

Himself and Lord Karstark had been summoned to Roose's solar to discuss the situation.

There was two days left for Fianna Stark to give herself up to the Bolton's, and Roose was starting to wonder if the woman would be cruel enough to allow her good sister to perish.

"There are still two more days, she likes to make an entrance. I'd imagine she'll arrive an hour before the strike of midnight," Lord Karstark complained, his bitterness for anyone who held the Stark name, through marriage or by blood, was as strong as ever.

"And if she doesn't, I say we send her Sansa Stark's head," Ramsay interjected, his inner cruelty rearing its ugly head.

"Your hold on the North will never be secure as long as a Stark can walk through that door," Lord Karstark continued, "Sansa Stark, Fianna Stark, Robb Stark's heir, any of them."

"Plus Sansa's brother in Castle Black."

Lord Karstark whipped his head around to look at Roose after Ramsay's revelation, "Ned Stark's surviving son is at Castle Black?"

"Jon Snow's a bastard, not a Stark," Roose brushed off.

"So was I," Ramsay added, feeling visibly deflated by the dismissal. "What's to stop the Night's Watch from coinciding with Fianna Stark now that he's Lord Commander?"

"There's more of a chance of Fianna joining up with Stannis than that."

"Castle Black isn't defended on the South side," Ramsay held his arms out in offer, "the few men left are barely men at all - farmboys and thieves. With a small force, we could storm Castle Black, kill Jon Snow-"

" _Murder_ the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch?" Roose thundered in interruption, "if every single damned house of the North hadn't pledged fealty to Fianna before that, they certainly would then."

"We don't _need_ every house in the North," Ramsay pressed, "the Umbers, the Karstarks and the Flints command more soldiers than all the other houses combined. With their support, even Fianna Bua couldn't challenge us."

"The Starks lost my house the day King Robb cut off my father's head," Lord Karstark agreed. "It's time for new blood in the North."

Roose looked down to the ground, considering the words of his son and Lord. He let out a soft sigh before standing up from the desk, moving to stand in front of the two directly.

"If you acquire a reputation as a mad dog, you'll be treated as a mad dog. Taken out back and slaughtered for pigs feed."

After Roose finished, the door to his solar opened and left no room for response. In walked a maester, and a young man that neither Roose nor Ramsay recognised, who was holding a jug of wine.

"My lords," the maester greeted, a bright smile on his face, "Lady Walda has given birth to a boy. Red-cheeked and healthy."

And just like that, whatever humanity left in Ramsay was crumbling to pieces. He was a fool to think that because he was legitimised that he would be seen as Roose's trueborn son. The way his father had turned to look at him only proved his insecurities. He would never be a Lord in wake of his father's death.

Lord Karstark congratulated Roose, but he could barely hear the words. His blood boiling inside of him.

Pushing aside his inner hatred, he moved forward and wrapped his arms around him none the less.

"Congratulations, father," he forced the words out, "I look forward to meeting my new brother."

After the hug separated, Roose placed his hand on his eldest son's shoulder and gripped it firmly.

"You will always be my first born," Roose told him, but the words did little to quell Ramsay's anger. They both knew what the new baby's birth meant.

"Thank you for saying that," he nodded, his words speaking true. "It means a great deal to me."

The two shared a gaze, the happiness underlying in Roose's eyes disgusting him.

"Cupbearer," Roose turned to the man still standing with the win, "pour two cups of wine, for me and my son."

Ramsay took a step back from his father as the other boy rushed over, placing down two cups on the table and tilting the jug to fill them.

Ramsay watched him carefully, his eyes narrowing in on the shake of the boy's hands. Upon further inspection, Ramsay noticed other abnormalities in the boy's appearance. He was rather toned and muscular, which was unusual for a mere cupbearer. He was a a lot older too than the average, perhaps in his early twenties instead of being a young boy.

"Stop," Ramsay commanded, the boys movements stilling. Roose looked over from his stance at the window at the commotion, the man placing his jug down on the desk and turning to Ramsay with his hands clasped. Although his eyes did not lift once.

"Yes milord?" He spoke, and neither Roose nor Ramsay missed the forced Northern twinge to his accent, causing it to sound completely fake.

The father and son shared a glance, before Ramsay stepped forward and nodded his head towards the cups on the desk.

"I just feel terrible you cannot join in on the celebrations, why don't you have my cup?"

The man's features went stony, his throat shifting with a gulp. "I'd really rather not."

"Do as your Lord commands you," Roose ordered, moving towards the man until there was mere inches between their faces.

The man had no choice, looking back and forth between the Bolton's as he lifted the cup up and brought it to his lips.

He paused as the rim met his mouth, Roose and Ramsay watching expectantly. Without warning, the man threw the contents of the cup forward until it splashed onto Roose's face, who stepped back in shock.

Conor then lifted his foot and kicked it against his chest to send him sailing backwards towards the ground. Roose wasn't aware of the contents of the glass, all he knew was that whatever it was laced with was burning his eyes and he could almost feel it flooding through his system.

Conor whipped a dagger out as he turned to face Ramsay, who was already prepared with one of his own. Moving into fighting stances, each of them whirled their blades through the air, occasionally nicking the other's skin, but nothing that would cause significant damage.

That was, until, Ramsay crouched down as Conor jut his dagger forward, from this position he was able to grip his arm, and haul him forward until his stomach met the tip of his blade.

Conor howled in pain, Ramsay twisting the knife inside of him. He knew the position of the stab wound wasn't always fatal, but within the minutes since he realised the man's intentions, he already had plans for his death.

Ramsay whipped the dagger out of his stomach and shoved him backward until he fell down, his hands clasping his stomach as the blood began to pour out.

Hearing a cough from the corner, Ramsay rushed to his ailing father's side.

"Father," he gasped, watching as Roose writhed in pain, a black mucus spewing out of his mouth every time he coughed.

"Ramsay-" he tried to speak, but only ended up coughing again.

"Don't try to talk," he pleaded, placing one hand on his chest. "I'm here for you, father."

"I-I'm sorry-" he coughed out the words anyway, his face reddening.

"I understand you have regrets, all of us do," his voice was sugar sweet, but Roose didn't realise the falseness behind it. "Take me, for example."

Ramsay leaned down to his dying father's ear, whispering softly into it the last words Roose Bolton would ever hear.

"I regret that I didn't kill you first."

And the last thing he knew, his first-born son was shoving a dagger down into his heart.

* * *

 **Whew! This chapter was the epitome of difficult to write.**

 **I actually had a lot more events planned to write at the end, but this is already pushing 5000 words so I suppose you'll have to wait until the next chapter for a glimpse of Arya ;)**

 **I've changed the timeline again, so Ramsay killing Roose will now happen before the Battle of Winterfell against Stannis, not after. In case it wasn't clear, Conor is still alive so not all hope is lost for Sansa yet.**

 **I hope you all like this chapter! Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!**

 **Emily01111 - I got it up eventually! I hope you enjoy this chapter! 3**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - thanks so much! I hope this one is just as good!**

 **starevolution1273 - Robb's in safe hands again! I can see why the reveal was a bit of a shock but hopefully not in a bad way! Thanks so much for reviewing I hope you like this one!**

 **Shannan - You actually did I couldn't believe you called it! All I can say is that one day Fianna and Dany WILL meet, but first she has to go on her revenge quest and get her mans. Technically Conor made it before Ramsay, but at his own sacrifice! Thanks so much for reviewing as always, I hope you like this one and enjoy it 3 x**


	42. (XLI) Alive and Abiding

_Song: I See Fire by Ed Sheeran_

 _Sansa_

Sansa Stark, as naive as she once was, did not often hope for much these days.

When she was first brought to King's Landing, she had hoped to marry Joffrey and become Queen. She soon would realise how dangerous that wish had been.

When her father had been imprisoned, she had hoped that he would be released unharmed, as Joffrey had promised to her.

When her brother started a war, she had hoped he would reach the Red Keep and rescue her from her bed.

It's no foolish thing to say that Sansa once gripped a naivety only a spoiled highborn daughter would possess, that she hoped for and expected too much, that she thought the Gods weren't as cruel as all that.

Now, being resigned to a life as a prisoner awaiting sentence in her former home, her life was as cold and miserable as the weather had grown to become. And even though she knew better, Sansa Stark hoped with every fibre in her young body that Fianna Bua would be the one to rescue her.

Two weeks had passed since Roose had told her his offer, perhaps it was stupid of her to think that Fianna would allow herself to be taken captive just to release her. After all, Fianna was a Queen now, and Sansa was only but a daughter and sister to a 'traitorous' Lord and 'treasonous' King.

But there had been something in her eyes.

Sansa had been hearing stories of Fianna since his brother rode off to war. The maids in the Red Keep would talk of this wild woman, tell stories of her beauty and her fierceness, and equally of her ill-mannered nature. She had never once met her good sister, but when she saw her the two weeks before she knew the rumours to be true.

Sansa knew that her brother, Robb, did not fall for his bride for her looks - although she guessed that didn't exactly sway him the opposite direction. While Fianna had spit words and exchanged unpleasantries with Roose, Sansa had been watching her.

There was a confidence to her, an assuredness in her figure that Sansa longed to bear. When they exchanged gazes, no words needed to be spoken aloud to be heard. Sansa wondered now if she had completely misread Fianna's communication.

Her chamber maid had relayed the message to her days before, of the man who had infiltrated Winterfell just to save her. Sansa didn't know whether or not to trust it, but once again that niggling nudge of hope had sprang up.

But the day had arrived. Two weeks had passed, Winterfell and the Bolton's stood as strong as ever and she was still in their clutches. Either it really had been a lie, perhaps a form of torture by Ramsay, or a failure. Now Roose Bolton was free to decide Sansa's fate.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting when she was instructed to come to the courtyard, perhaps her fate would lay there.

For that reason, Sansa walked slowly, prolonging the journey as long as she possibly could.

When she arrived, the square was already bustling with a crowd. It seems the entirety of Winterfell's inhabitants had been told of the event as well.

She waited, clutching her hands together in front of her body, until the spectacle began.

Two guards had appeared, dragging a man along with them. It was clear the man was bloodied and bruised, for what reason - she was not sure. Sansa was certain she had never seen this particular man before.

Her eyes dropped to the crowd as the guards dragged the man up to a wooden platform. By pure chance, Sansa's eyes met her chamber maid's amongst the group of bystanders. She attempted to smile, out of chivalry, but the maid's widened eyes and disturbed expression indicated something about this event wasn't right.

Arrogantly, Ramsay began to stroll out of the castle, towards the platform as well. Sansa felt the need to swallow bile at the mere image of him.

"What we have here," he began, a smirk on his mouth that oozed of evil, "is a traitor and a murderer."

Reaching down for dramatic effect, he gripped the stranger's hair and dragged his head back up, a small spurt of blood falling from his mouth as a result.

"He was sent by Fianna Stark, on a mission to further her traitor cause. As a result, my father and the Lord of Winterfell, Roose Bolton, is dead," a gasp rang out across the crowd, admittedly Sansa contributed to the sound, but not for the same reasons. "His lady wife, Walda Bolton, and their newborn son, have also been slaughtered."

Sansa's eyes fell to the man in front of her, and to her surprise, he was already intently watching her.

"If it were up to I, a brutal punishment would be too good for this filth. But as flaying is illegal in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, we will have to settle for public execution."

A dizzy sensation suddenly overcame her, her ears began to ring - which just about drowned out the sudden howls of agreement. It was happening all over again.

Images of her father's beheading filled her mind involuntarily, she could swear she could still hear the smack of his head hitting the stone.

Sansa dragged her gaze from the ground back to the prisoner in question again. There was no doubt he had been sent to save her, and for that she owed him some semblance of gratitude. But with the current situation, her options were limited.

Sansa settled for a nod of her head, thanking the Gods he was still staring at her.

He confused her then by nodding in return, with much more intensity and force behind it. Sansa stepped forward a bit, her sight failing her in seeing something she must have been missing.

He nodded once more, his eyes wide and frantic. His gaze then flicked from her to the top of the walls directly facing her back.

Sansa turned, inconspicuously, and noted that the wall was unusually more sparse than normal today, where it tended to be crowded with guards. In its stead, there where perhaps three guards. And all of them were watching the execution with eager eyes.

She looked back once more just as the man was being positioned over the block, deciding she wasn't going to watch this scenario play out again. Instead, she gave him a nod of her own, which looked to ease his tenseness a bit.

Sansa turned around, shuffling her hood over her head as she seemingly made her way back to her room, but really was headed for the top of the wall. Her steps were halted however, by the sudden sound of a meaty thud behind her - followed by cheers from the crowd.

Holding back a sob, she moved on, trying to persevere. The next time she was stopped, a hand had been wrapped around her elbow.

"Lady Sansa," her chambermaid gushed, before leading her up the stairs to the balcony overlooking Winterfell. "Conor organised an escape for you, follow me."

"What?" She echoed, eyes wide and heart racing. The woman was not about to explain, however, winding around a corner.

It wasn't clear to Sansa immediately what stopped her chamber maid, or what had even happened, until the woman's grip on her hand loosened and her body collapsed to reveal a bow-bearing Miranda.

Sansa bit back a scream, desperate to not give away her position any more than she already had. A hunched over, troubled looking, Theon stood aside her.

"My lady," she greeted sweetly. "I have come to escort you back to your chamber."

"Go with her, please," Theon begged, dragging his gaze up from the ground to look at Sansa.

"I know what Ramsay is," Sansa spoke, fists clenched at her side, "I know what he'll do to me." Theon looked down, knowing as well. "If I'm going to die, let it happen while there's still some of me left."

"Die?" Miranda grinned wickedly, lowering her bow. "Who said anything about dying? You can't die. Your brother Robb's child will need a mother, Ramsay needs you." Sansa inhaled sharply in shock.

 _Robb has a child?_

The news seemed to shock Theon as well, who's head shot up to look at Miranda.

"Well, I suppose he doesn't need all of you," Miranda babbled, "just the parts to feed a babe and a finger to place a ring on."

Sansa realised as Miranda raised her bow once more, that she wouldn't die because of her inability to escape or Fianna's failure of a plan. She would be wedded off to Ramsay, instead. The news instilled an entirely new level of horror in her.

"So, shall we wait for him to come back or should we begin now?" She asked, her lips upturned as she began to drag back the arrow set against her bow. "You're leaving it to me? Good. Let's begin."

Sansa shut her eyes and prepared for the worst, whispering a silent prayer. Instead of the hit of an arrow, instead she was hit with the sounds of grunting. Her eyes opened, watching as Theon, who had snapped out of his revere _finally,_ wrapped his arms around Miranda.

The shock of it caused her to let loose the arrow, which completely missed Sansa and hit the wall next to her.

"What are you doing?" She demanded frustratedly, struggling against him. Theon continued, hauling her up against the side of the walkway and all but flinging her over the edge.

Miranda's body went sailing through the air, and hit the ground beneath with a sickening crunch.

Sansa and Theon rushed to the barrier to see if she were truly dead, and when they seen the pool of blood beginning to develop beneath her head, they looked at each other in shock.

"He'll find her," he muttered in terror, gripping her hand and beginning to drag her.

Theon and Sansa half-ran up the stairs to the top of the wall, but slowed significantly upon seeing a guard stationed there. They came to stop as the guard turned and noticed them, waiting for him to raise the alarm and seal their fate.

"Come on then," he beckoned, "took you long enough."

The two looked at each other in confusion, before rushing forward again to meet the guard.

"Is he going with ya?" He asked, and it took all of a second for Sansa to make her decision.

"Yes he is."

The guard in question hooked a grapple around a post behind him, then flinging the connected rope down the long expanse of the wall.

"Off you go then," he gestured. Theon allowed Sansa to grasp the rope first, her hands shook as she looked down at the drop beneath. "One more thing, tell Queen Fianna that she still has supporters at Winterfell."

With that, Sansa began to shimmy her way down the hope. Perhaps having hope wasn't the worst thing to happen to her yet.

* * *

 _Arya_

Although Arya Stark had lived on both sides of life, as a high born daughter and a lowly servant, living in Braavos had taught her there were still experiences she had yet to fulfil.

Today's experience was a play.

It was a rather peculiar scene, an array of actors reenacting Westerosi history with various props and backgrounds.

The gathering of a crowd was what first attracted Arya, who was eager to see what the curiosity was. She moved closer to get a good look.

A lady, with a billow of brown hair cascading down her back, was seated at a table alongside a red headed, curly haired man. It was clear they were exaggerating features of the two for comedic purposes, with the lady hunched over and lazily scratching her chest, acting as a man would.

"Oi husband, d'ya think she's prettier than me?" The lady asked the man in a rough voice, who bellowed a laugh.

"Of course not, my..." he trailed off as he watched her sniff her armpits in disgust, "... lovely wife." This caused an eruption of laughter across the crowd, and Arya broke the smallest of smiles. "Everyone knows the Freys are the ugliest in all the land, why I wouldn't even be here if I didn't need the men."

"Good to know," she agreed, and Arya's smile faded.

She had realised what they were reenacting this time.

Another woman entered the scene, alongside another man and an elder fellow. The elder of the three held his hands up, gesturing to the other two.

"I present to you, my daughter Roslyn and her new husband Edmure Tully!"

Her gaze was brought back to the Robb actor, who's jaw had dropped at the sight of the obviously prettier bride.

"Gods be damned!" He swore, huffing and crossing his arms, causing another eruption of laughter.

The scene carried on, with the newly wedded couple having left to 'complete the ceremony'. Arya wished she was able to leave, but she forced herself to watch more, a sick sensation rising in her stomach.

"I've got a present for your new bride, my King," the man portraying Walder spoke haughtily, smirking widely as he approached the two and placed a hand on 'Robb's' shoulder.

Out of nowhere, he let out a grunt and pretended to run a wooden dagger through his stomach.

"Goddamn it," 'Fianna' complained, "how am I going to be Queen now?!"

Arya shook her head, trying to contain her anger. She knew this wasn't how it went down, but the fact they were telling it in this way to make people laugh had royally pissed her off.

'Fianna' then brandished a wooden sword of her own, and began to swing her way around the wedding, killing every Frey man there except Walder, who she spared.

"If you ever become king, let me know," she pouted her lips and batted her eyelashes flirtatiously at him, before running straight for the door.

The scene changed suddenly, and a flood of new actors came in, all raising their swords in the air to Fianna.

"Queen in the North!" They were shouting, causing Arya's eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

"Well, looks as if I still got to be Queen after all!" She winked at the audience, smirking wildly and flipping her hair.

The play had ended, but Arya's confusion reigned. Questions flooded her mind, that she needed the answer to promptly.

Had Fianna survived the Red Wedding? Had she been hailed Queen of the North?"

* * *

 _Fianna_

Fianna sat next to the fireplace in her chambers, Eddie was settled into her lap and Aifric was sleeping soundly in a crib aside Fianna's bed.

The young queen moved the twins into her room, to free up the nursery for Bonifer to reside in and because of her blatant paranoia.

She watched the flames silently, her son cooing happily on her lap and babbling.

The twins were a few months older now, and were able to sit up on their own. They were much bigger now, it wouldn't be long until their first words. Now, their only sounds consisted of incoherent babble.

As they grew, their individual features became more distinguished. Their red-tinted hair was longer now, sitting messily atop their heads in tight curls. Aifric, Fianna thought, looked more like Robb. While Eddie looked more like herself.

A knock at the door sounded out, and Fianna called out for her guest to enter. Her head turned to the side as the door opened, revealing her sheepish looking grandfather on the other side.

"Hi," he greeted quietly, which she returned. Bonifer crossed the room and held his hands out for Eddie, who happily reached up and came into his arms. As much as it surprised her, the twins had warmed almost instantly to their great grandfather. Fianna noticed with a sad pang that they would never get to know their actual grandparents.

"This came for you," he shuffled Eddie against his left side, freeing his other arm to rifle through his pocket for a small scroll. "The maester was on his way so I said I'd give it to you."

"Thanks," she spoke quietly, taking the scroll and carefully unravelling it. She rubbed a hand over her face to waken up fully before reading it. She didn't miss the Bolton seal that she broke to open it.

" ** _ **Lady**_** ** _ **Fianna,"**_**

It was addressed to her, and the misused title of 'Lady' was crudely underlined.

 ** _ **"For you, I have good news and bad news. I'll start with the good, shall I?**_**

 ** _ **Your little envoy successfully completed his mission, in that he managed to kill my Lord father, Roose Bolton.**_**

 ** _ **The matter was not taken lightly, which brings me to the bad news - he was beheaded in the square of Winterfell at midday, today."**_**

Fianna's head shook as she read the words, the news that Roose's death barely impacted her when she read of Conor's beheading.

 ** _ **"As my father had no other living heir, and I am the eldest son, I have been appointed Lord of Winterfell in his stead. Which subsequently means I am now in sole charge of the dealings between us.**_**

 ** _ **I am no foolish person, Lady Fianna. But I am also not merciful. I believe to have good reasoning enough to tell you that you will die at my hand. Whether it be tomorrow, a week, a month or a year from now. You will die. But fret not, I do not intend to kill the child you shared with Robb Stark. I'm sure you're aware of why.**_**

 ** _ **Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."**_**

Her heart almost stopped in her chest. Not at Ramsay's warning, but by the knowledge he obtained that she was a mother. Threats to her life meant little to her by now, but threats to her children rattled her to the core. She let her hand fall to her lap, the letter still clutched in it as his words rang over and over in her head.

"What is it?" Bonifer asked, sitting down in the chair next to her. She held the letter out to him, which he took and read over quickly.

"Do you think there's a traitor in our midst?" Fianna asked, wondering if she was to be betrayed again.

"No," he denied, "look at his wording. Ramsay uses the word 'child', not 'children'. If we had a traitor, this person would know you bore twins. It's probable that whoever told him knew you were pregnant, not that you had given birth."

"Probably Lord Umber," she hissed in anger, careful to talk lowly to avoid waking Aifric up. "He never mentioned Sansa's fate."

"If was able to decide Sansa's fate, he would have bragged about it. It's likely that she escaped as planned."

"I hope so..." she whispered, thoughts of the red haired good sister she had never gotten the chance to meet haunted her at night.

"Fianna," he began again, letting out a sigh as he read the contents of the scroll once more. "You're not going to like what I have to say. But you should consider remarrying."

"What?" She spat, her eyes narrowed. "Not a chance in Seven Hells."

"You said it yourself, your men are not equipped to battle the Bolton's yet. If you were to remarry, you would be receiving their army as well."

"Yes, but under the command of my new husband - who would be named King. I would lose complete control, have you lost your mind?" She shook her head in disbelief.

"Not if your King had the same agenda as you do," Bonifer spoke cryptically. "The Umbers are one of the most powerful households in the North, Smalljon is still unmarried."

"Yes, and he also hates me. I don't think that's ground for marriage."

"Many a man would put hate aside for power," he pointed out, moving on when Fianna threw him a harsh glare. "Stannis Baratheon is due to ride here from Castle Black."

"How do you know that?"

"I heard many whispers on my journey to Baelfort. It seems he intends on joining forces with you to take down Winterfell."

"Stannis Baratheon would waste half his force taking down Baelfort before he'd join forces with a traitor. He sees himself as King too, you would know you were once his bannerman."

"Fianna, I'm not saying that Ramsay is going to win, but you're going to lose if you don't have an ally."

A plan began to form in Fianna's head, one outlandish and wicked enough to cause her mouth to upturn in a smirk. It was far fetched, and entirely dangerous, but if successful would be monumental.

"Perhaps you're right," she told him suddenly, "perhaps I should remarry."

* * *

 ** **This chapter is a bit filler-y, once again I had planned to write more but if I did add onto this chapter what I planned**** ** **to, it would be too much for one chapter. This chapter provides a basis for the next,**** ** **believe me the next few chapters are what I have been waiting to write for months now and I want them to be perfectly set up.****

 ** **Sansa escaped Winterfell! I hope you all don't mind the changes I made with her escape and the fact she didn't marry Ramsay. To clarify, this means that she was not r*ped during her time at Winterfell. I also think my version of her escape makes more sense than her and Theon flinging themselves off a wall three stories high. It also shows that if they are given someone to follow, i.e. Fianna, people will follow. I also loved including Theon's turnaround, in this book I'd like it to be spurred on by saving Sansa AND by hearing Robb has a child.****

 ** **Arya is also now aware that Fianna is alive and a queen, which is a really important moment too. You'll see why! If you can't tell, I've also moved her timeline up.****

 ** **And just to clarify, Fianna is not moving on from Robb. So please don't get mad thinking that she is, because I promise you if you bear with me for the next threeish chapters you will be left extremely satisfied.****

 ** **Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed, it means the world!****

 ** **starevolution1273 - So glad to hear it! It's difficult having an OC family, I don't want to bore people by having non-canon characters but I also want to develop my character as well as I can. To be quite honest, I have no idea. I know that Fianna will meet Dany one day, but if it extends beyond that I haven't decided yet. Thanks so much for reviewing 3****

 ** **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Glad to hear it!****


	43. (XLII) Shadow of Death

_Song: Through the Valley by Shawn James_

 _Arya_

Arya crept down into the shadows, waiting patiently. Her wounds were beginning to heal, but crouching down still strained them. Occasionally, she would bite her lip to keep from hissing in pain.

Admittedly, if she wasn't aware she had a place to go for refuge in Westeros, perhaps she wouldn't be so eager to leave Braavos. But none the less, it had to be done. She had been betrayed, almost killed. This place was never a home for her and now she knew it for sure.

Arya Stark was too proud of her name and identity to ever renounce it completely.

Footsteps echoed throughout the hall, Arya held her breath to avoid making so much as an exhale.

She watched from the shadows as Jaqen noticed the trail of blood, immediately suspicious but following it anyway.

Finally, he seen what she wanted him to see. The face of the Waif, separated entirely from her head and draped over the stone head of another.

As Jaqen was taken with the display, Arya brought forth Needle and approached him from behind, angling the tip of the blade towards his head.

"You told her to kill me," she spoke, informing him of her presence. He turned slowly, having the decency to at least look a little guilty.

"Yes," Jaqen admitted. "But here you are, and there she is."

Arya's chest tightened as he turned and walked forwards until his chest pressed against the end of her sword.

"Finally, a girl is no one."

"A girl is Arya Stark, of Winterfell," Arya spoke proudly, finding it freeing to accept her identity after months of denying it. "And I'm going home."

Jaqen's lips turned up in a smirk, his head bobbing in a single nod.

"Does a girl have a home to go back to?" He asked, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

"I'm going to my sister," Arya dropped her arm and shoved Needle into a holding by her hip. Turning, she walked away from Jaqen - not even daring to look back.

"Are you sure Sansa is even alive?" He called out to her.

"I never said it was Sansa," she muttered under her breath, making her way towards the exit and leaving Jaqen H'gar, once and for all.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"Are you all set to leave, Paulina?" Fianna kindly asked her wet nurse, who cradled Eddie in her arms as Fianna held Aifric.

They were stood in the courtyard of Baelfort, a horde of people surrounding them and preparing their own horses for leave.

"Yes, my lady, you don't need to keep asking! It's a pleasure to accompany you to help with the twins," Paulina gushed excitedly, the twins had taken such a liking to her. If Fianna was sure that it was safe, she would have left the twins here under her care. But Baelfort wouldn't be guarded well once her party departed, and she couldn't bear to leave the twins once again.

Riding in a carriage was something she despised doing, much like her father had before his health deteriorated so much that he was left with little choice but to.

Grey Wind trotted up to her side, the direwolf was truly humongous now. He had reached his full size a short while after the Red Wedding. If there was room for it, she would have allowed him to travel inside the carriage with her for added protection. But alas, Grey Wind would be running alongside the carriage next to her.

"You're all set too, little man?" Fianna asked Rickon, although 'little' may have been an inaccuracy at this point. He rolled his eyes, huffing and looking up to his good sister.

"Fianna, I'm not little any more. I'm up to your shoulder, for the gods sake," he cussed, prompting her to nip his arm gently.

"Not big enough to swear like a man, that's for sure," she remarked, causing him to cower back and apologise. "Are you sure you want to ride a horse today? I'm perfectly fine with you riding along with us in the carriage."

"I'm too _old_ to still ride in the carriage, Fianna! You promised you'd let me ride my horse today!" He whined, becoming increasingly stubborn as he grew older - much like his brother, she realised.

"Fine!" She accepted, "but if you so much as step a hoof away from the vanguard I'll be tying you to the carriage by a rope and dragging you along behind us!"

"Deal!" He agreed giddily, rushing off towards his horse. "Osha! She said yes!"

"You needn't worry, Fianna," a deep voice spoke from behind her, causing her to turn with a soft smile. "I'll look after your home."

"It's your home now too, that's why," she teased her grandfather, tilting her head up to look at his face as he placed his hand on her arm. Bonifer grinned back heartily, calming her worries - if only a little.

"You may hate your lineage, child," his tone dropped to a serious one as he allowed Aifric to grab onto his fingers and shove them into her mouth, suckling on them childishly. "But only the product of a Bua, Targaryen and Hasty would come up with a plan as ingenious as you have."

Fianna nodded her head in response, still not having fully accepted her background. He squeezed her arm once more before moving along, allowing Tiernan to approach her next.

"It's about time you get to go and fight, isn't it?" Fianna jibed, poking him in the stomach.

"Maybe things wouldn't have gone to shit so many times if you didn't leave me here before," he threw back with a smirk. "You sure you want to do this?"

Fianna looked down to her daughter, who rested on her hip, looking around her curiously. Running her fingers through Aifric's wavy hair, that had grown down long enough to cover her small ears now.

"Yes, I'm sure," she couldn't help but feel excitement. The entire scene had felt like deja-vu to her, mimicking the day when she departed Baelfort to join Robb Stark's vanguard. Just like Robb, Fianna had called her banners and would be gone for a couple of months.

"You know, I was never one for tradition," she brought up suddenly, a glimmer in her eye, "I was the first Northern Queen, the Lord of my house, I mean, for gods sake I got married in my armour." Tiernan laughed at this, shaking his head. "But there's one tradition I would like to follow."

He raised his eyebrows curiously.

"I don't know how much longer I'll be Queen, or if I'll even return to Baelfort. If Walder Frey taught me anything, it's that you can't ever expect to be safe," her voice lowered, filling with sadness. "But while I am," she started, lifting her hand in the air and placing it down on his shoulder. "Tiernan Brady, I name you Hand of the Queen."

His smirk fell, the easy expression he held completely wiping off his face. His eyes immediately began to water, which he tried to hide by clearing his throat and looking away momentarily.

"Well, it's about bloody time," he laughed once, causing her to break into laughter as well.

* * *

 _Ike_

"That was amazing," Ike exhaled, breathless. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, but realised he was only smearing more blood onto his face.

"I knew you'd like that," Thoros chuckled, panting softly as well.

The group had gotten wind that a small section of the Lannister army had splintered off and were torturing a local village, the Brotherhood were quick to respond, far outnumbering them.

The work they were doing was quite fulfilling for Ike, who was finally able to ease up on some of the self-hatred he had harboured for himself for so long now.

"You done well, lad," Beric clapped him on the back, they had all taken note of Ike's fighting skill, and knew that there was no way he was a mere serving boy.

"So, where'd you learn to fight like that?" Anguy pressed, once again. The man had made it his mission to get Ike's history and background- much to his annoyance.

"Give it a rest, Anguy," Thoros huffed, rolling his eyes and popping the cap off of his flask so he could take a swig. It wasn't often that the image of Thoros wasn't accompanied by a beverage of sorts.

Later that evening, as they sat by the fire, Beric chose to sit next to Ike on the fallen tree log they had set up. Not many people in the brotherhood liked to sit near Ike. Many were weary of him, not that he minded. He'd rather be left alone anyway.

"You know, Anguy pushes you for an answer because we can all see you're burdened by your past," Beric commented casually, chewing on the cooked rabbit meat they had roasted over a fire.

"He might be right, but that doesn't mean I have to share it," Ike replied frustratedly, growing tired of the groups pressure.

"You don't have to, but if you think that none of us haven't done something worse, you'd be dead wrong."

Ike managed a scoff at this, looking to his companion with eyes wide with sarcasm, "believe me, I don't think there's a man here who's done something worse than I have."

 **TW/ mild mention of rape**

"Did you rape anyone?" He outright asked, taking Ike aback.

"No," he grunted, insulted that he had asked.

"Then you're not as bad as Janeson over there," Beric pointed his finger towards the heavier man, who was sloppily eating like an animal. "He raped a servant girl when Renly Baratheon called his banners to Highgarden."

"And you choose to allow him to ride with us?" Ike hissed in disgust.

"If he did it again, we made it clear he'd die. Besides, we let you ride with us without even knowing what you had done."

He had a point, Ike realised, sighing dejectedly.

"I killed someone," he admitted, the shame creeping up his neck like a bitter wind.

"That's it?" Beric barked a laugh, "there's not a man here who hasn't killed someone, boy!"

"Not in battle. I... I killed the woman I loved," Ike's voice dropped to a whisper, a lump in his throat. He half expected to be thrown out of the group as quick as he joined.

"Why?" Beric pressed, eyebrows furrowed in question, but not in judgement.

"I don't know," Ike shook his head, his eyes staying forward. "I woke up and the first thing I see is this man telling me that the woman I loved, the woman I lay with and married, wasn't my woman at all. That she belonged to another and that I had killed her out of jealousy and concocted our entire relationship in my head."

"So... you're mad then?"

"I don't know, I suppose I'd have to be wouldn't I? Because even after two years I'm still not convinced that it wasn't real. I know what it was like to hold her in my arms, to love her, to lay with her."

Beric didn't answer, allowing Ike to reveal all to him and get it off his chest. The hole in his chest ached once more, as it always did when he thought of _her_.

"You want to know the craziest part about it?" When Beric nodded, Ike continued. "I had somehow convinced myself I was her husband too. A king at that."

Beric chuckled out of respect, but it was clear he didn't find it amusing that much. "Which king? Joffrey Baratheon I'd hope not?"

"No," Ike grumbled, anger flooding his veins at the mere mention of his name - for what reason, he was unaware of. "The King in the North, Robb Stark."

Beric's head snapped over, his brain working a mile a minute as he pulled Ike's words together in his head.

"Wait, _Fianna Bua_ was the woman you loved? The one you killed?" He demanded, Ike suddenly felt sick to his stomach - he knew he shouldn't have mentioned anything.

"No- I, I've got to go. Take a piss," he stammered, standing up from the log to rush out of Beric's wrath. Or run away, he had yet to decide.

"Wait a minute, lad!" Beric called after him, gripping his arm and dragging him harshly back down to the log again. "What makes you think that Fianna Bua died?"

"They told me I had poisoned her," Ike shrugged, bile rising in his throat at the thought.

"But how do you _know_ she died?"

"I seen the blood stains on the ground, everyone hated me at the Twins I had to escape just to be sure I wasn't killed on sight."

"Ike," Beric turned to the side, giving him his full attention. Ike had never seen him so serious, not even when they were in a fight. "I don't know how you're going to take this, but know that I am being honest. Fianna Bua- or Stark or whatever you may call her, she isn't dead."

Ike's initial reaction was one of anger, he had trusted in Beric enough to divulge his past with him, and he was turning it in to a joke.

"Lie to me again, Dondarrion-" he began to threaten, but was quickly cut off.

"I'm not lying, you fool! Ask anyone in this camp, Fianna Stark is the Queen in the North now. She survived the Red Wedding and escaped to Baelfort!"

Ike still wasn't sure if he should believe it, after all, what use would Ramsay have had to lie to him? Didn't he risk himself trying to help Ike escape the Twins? Beric watched as an expression of pain crossed Ike's face, along with utter confusion.

"Who told you that she was dead?" Beric questioned, and Ike felt compelled to answer.

"Ramsay did," he admitted.

"I hope you don't mean Ramsay _Snow_ , from House Bolton," when Ike's expression looked more horrified than ever; Beric took that as confirmation.

"Seven hells, boy. You've been betrayed beyond belief," he let out a huff, running his hand over his thinning hair as he contemplated what to do, or say.

"You're definitely sure she's alive?" Ike's voice rang out, tiny and unsure of himself.

"God yes, lad. She took down the Dreadfort a couple of months back, completely destroyed it."

Realisation hit Ike like a winter wind, his body felt like a sheet of cold ice had been wrapped around it. He hadn't been hallucinating, well, not the first time anyway. Fianna really had been there, and he had _ran._

"Tell me now and tell me true, boy," Beric gripped his shoulder tightly, bringing their heads together to drop their voices to murmurs. "Is your name Ike Rivers or is it not? Because if you have any doubt at all in your mind that it's not, you need to say it now."

Ike took a minute to think about it. He was still reeling over the news that Fianna was alive, his emotions were brimming to the top and as embarrassing as it was, he couldn't help but let out a small sob, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth.

Ramsay had broken him down to nothing, and he had just accepted it, _thanked_ him for it. The entire time his gut was telling him to be weary, he should have listened. When the name _Bolton_ set an ice in his veins, he should have listened. When he saw Fianna, he should have ran straight for her and ended the confusion instantly, instead of the opposite direction. But he had been a coward.

Ike had always knew that his background was sketchy at best, all of his memories of his life before were either put into his head by Ramsay, or imagined up by his own subconscious. The small memories he did obtain, of a large castle in a cold land, he put it down to his madness.

But Ramsay was willing to lie to him about Fianna, was he willing to lie to him about who he was? Did he use Robb's memory loss to his advantage?

"No," he breathed, eyes still wet from fresh tears. "I don't think it is."

* * *

 _Bonifer_

"They arrived a few minutes ago, we've been keeping them out, but Stannis demands to talk to Queen Fianna," a guard relayed to Bonifer, as they walked down the winding hallways of Baelfort towards the front entrance.

Bonifer Hasty, much like his granddaughter, wasn't always one for tradition. He was a good soldier, and fought well for whoever he had sworn allegiance to. But he wasn't afraid to bend oaths, like when he had fallen for the Targaryen princess, or when he had left the Baratheons to join his granddaughter.

Bonifer hadn't seen Stannis since the Battle of the Blackwater - and he wasn't eager to again. Bonifer had served four Kings in his lifetime - Robert, Stannis, Joffrey and now Fianna. He had experiences with them all, and each of them had their downfalls. But blood ties or not, Fianna was the one he would bend the knee to. She was compassionate, strong and intelligent. All qualities of a good leader, albeit if a little hotheaded.

When he approached the gate, he sent the word to have all archers on the wall on standby should Stannis make a move.

Bonifer called out for the gate to be raised, just enough to allow him through, and then shut again.

As he walked out to greet Stannis' party, the King had a similar idea - immediately dismounting his horse and walking towards his former Lord.

"Hasty," he remarked, giving him a once over. It was clear he was bitter over Bonifer's newfound allegiances. "I said I would speak to Fianna and Fianna only. Bring her out here, she doesn't need to cower behind her Lord like a little girl."

"Unfortunately, my _granddaughter_ is not home at the moment," Bonifer replied, emphasising his relationship to her. He crossed his hands in front of him, the epitome of calm, while Stannis looked like a ball of fire - ready to explode.

"Well it's heartening to know that family means something to you, when oaths clearly do not."

"I didn't think oaths were still in place when myself and my men were left to die on the shore of King's Landing," Bonifer bit back.

"Where is the Queen then? Has she run into town to fetch herself a pretty dress?" Stannis mocked.

"You speak so little of her, yet it seems to me you came here to ask for her _help_."

"You know nothing, Hasty. I simply came to make her an offer she couldn't refuse."

"What? Give you her provisions and her men and in exchange you won't kill her?" Bonifer barked a laugh.

"Exactly," Stannis agreed, dead serious.

"Stannis," Bonifer sighed, feigning pity. "That deal has not worked for any other King in the country, and it will not work for Queen Fianna, either."

"That's ' _your grace'_ to you, Hasty," he corrected.

"Not any more, it's not."

"So you mean to turn starving men away because of your pride?" Stannis demanded, growing increasingly angry.

" _I_ can't do anything, I'm not the Lord of Baelfort. But speaking in the best interests of my granddaughter, then yes."

"I'm going to take back Winterfell, kill the Bolton's, and then I'm going to come back here, root you out of your keep and hang you all for treason to the crown."

"My lord," Bonifer remarked cheekily, gesturing above for the gate to be lifted again. "You won't be returning from Winterfell, and if you were half the man you were three years ago, you would know that."

* * *

 _Arya_

The furs that bundled around her felt warm and itchy, where once they had felt enveloping and inviting.

Arya Stark hadn't realised just how accustomed she had become to the heat in Braavos until she had returned to Westeros. It seemed the further North she went, the colder it got - she couldn't imagine how cold Baelfort would be around now. Her father was right, Winter really was coming.

Deciding to treat herself for the night, she had stopped at an Inn she passed on her journey, for a hot meal and a warm bed for the night.

She was listening to Lannister soldiers who were seated at a bench behind her, eavesdropping as they discussed her great uncle - the Blackfish.

It seemed that Brynden, after fighting mercilessly, had finally regained full control of Riverrun - and the Lannisters were here to intervene.

"The old man will never give it up, the Tullys have held Riverrun for a thousand years, the place is a fortress!" One of the two exclaimed.

Arya contemplated stopping by there instead of going straight to the North, but then thought the better of it. If Lannister soldiers truly were headed for Riverrun, perhaps it best if she stayed well clear enough.

She was stronger now from her training, but not strong enough to take on an army.

"Arry!" A voice exclaimed from in front of her, breaking her out of her eavesdropping daze. Her eyes snapped up to see a figure she hadn't seen in years.

"Hello Hot Pie," she greeted, feeling genuine surprise and happiness from the encounter. "Sit down!"

He was clutching a tray of food in his hand, which he set down on the table as he moved to sit across from her.

"Who's that for?" She asked, without giving him a chance to answer. She took the load of bread and the knife from the tray, slicing into it and starting to eat.

She hummed at the taste, her eyes fluttering closed as her stomach was finally being filled.

"This is good," she admitted, eating more.

"The secret is browning the butter before mixing it in the dough, only most people don't do that cos it takes up too much time," he babbled.

"Hm, I'll be sure to do that," she mused.

"You've been making pies?" He asked in disbelief.

"One or two. I'm trying to learn," she admitted coyly.

"I can't believe you're here!" Hot Pie exclaimed happily. "Did you meet the big lady?"

"Big lady?" She echoed, wiping the crumbs from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"The knight, well I think she was a knight cos she had armour on. She was looking for your sister but I told her about you," Hot Pie went on. "She ever find you?"

"She found me."

Hot Pie hesitated before asking his next question, knowing full well Arya used to have a temper. "What happened to you, Arry?"

Arya put down her bread and looked to him, pausing for a moment. It wasn't a story to tell someone like Hot Pie, or anyone really.

"You got any ale?" She asked instead, immediately taking the cup and filling it from the jug after he pointed it out.

Arya downed the entire contents of the cup within seconds, Hot Pie could only watch in equal parts amazement and disgust.

"Where are you heading?"

"Baelfort."

"Why?"

"I heard Fianna's queen now."

"I heard she took down the Dreadfort, killed everyone who wouldn't pledge fealty and then burned the place to the ground. I can't believe she'd do that," Hot Pie rambled, Arya's eyebrows shooting up in interest.

"I'm glad she did. The Bolton's deserve it."

"Maybe," he conceded. "You'll have a hard time finding Queen Fianna at Baelfort though."

"Why?" Arya asked, perplexed.

"Well," he leaned in, looking like a Septa giving a lesson. "I heard that Fianna left Baelfort and she's making her way towards the Twins."

"Why would she go there? Is she going to take it down too?" Arya demanded.

"The exact opposite actually, rumour has it she's going there to marry one of his sons."

Arya stopped chewing her food at that instant, narrowing her eyes at her former friend.

"Why would she do that, Hot Pie? That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe she needs more men to be able to take down Winterfell?" He suggested.

"But a marriage for an army is exactly what happened last-" Arya cut herself off, a thought coming to her head. Her eyes widened as she left down the last piece of uneaten bread, sucking the crumbs off of her fingers and scrambling to stand up.

"I've got to go," she gushed quickly, leaving the bench but stopping suddenly, clapping Hot Pie on the back. "Take care of yourself, Hot Pie."

"You too, Arry," he replied kindly back, watching her as she dashed outside, straight to her horse and ignoring the fact she had paid for a room for the night.

As she mounted the horse, she remembered something Fianna had told her long ago - about being able to tell directions by moss on the tree.

And with that in mind, she set off further North. Towards the Twins.

* * *

 **Not to be dramatic, but the next chapter is probably one of the three biggest chapters in the book(the first being the Red Wedding, the second being the next chapter and the third being Robb's upcoming reunion), in my opinion anyway.**

 **I'm soooo excited to write it. You have no idea. I've been building this up and I just hope everyone will like what will happen, well I think everyone will enjoy it but I hope that everyone likes the** ** _way_** **it happens. Does that make sense?**

 **A lot is going on in this chapter, but first and foremost ROBB IS OFFICIALLY BACK BITCHES. He's still struggling with his identity and memory, but he's back and he's coming to find Fianna. Their reunion is... should I say it? Oh what the hell. It's like four chapters away. Which may seem like a long time, but I'm flying through writing lately because I'm HAPPY with what I'm writing, so it's not long. Don't worry. And after that I promise, no more fucking with everyone - Robb and Fianna will be backstreets back, alright!**

 **Stannis' fate has been sealed unfortunately, but I believe the next chapter will make up for the fact Fianna wasn't involved in the Battle of Winterfell. Hopefully.**

 **And Fianna and Robb's reunion may be a few chapters away, but Fianna and Arya will be seeing each other quite soon.**

 **I dropped a bit of a bomb there with Hot Pie's revelation at the end, so I'm just gonna ask everyone to trust me with this one.**

 **Thanks for everyone who read and/or reviewed! x**

 **reaganrose115 - glad to hear it! Sansa is going to become more involved from now on in the book x**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 I hope this chapter answered Robb's fate! He's ready to go and get his girl!**

 **starevolution1273- thank you so so much your comments are always so encouraging! As for Arya, without giving too much away I think Arya was more angered by Fianna's portrayal in the play than suspicious by it, because they were rather close and Arya knows better than to think Fianna wanted Robb to die. Thanks so much for reviewing I hope you liked this one! x**

 **Guest - I actually had no idea about that so thanks so much for pointing that out to me! I'll have to change that when I go back to edit.**

 **Guest - Of course she won't forget entirely, but she also won't shut them out either I will say!**

 **Emily01111 - no reunions in this chapter unfortunately! But the next one, there is one in that I will admit ;)**

 **Shannan - No problem! I'm glad you approve of the changes I've been making, I hope no one gets too frustrated when I mess with the canon story but oh well. I wonder was the ending revelation there one of your ideas? Thanks as always! x**


	44. (XLIII) White Wedding

_Song: Vengeance by Zach Hemsey_

 _Fianna_

Fianna Stark, along with her party, waited with bated breath as she knocked on the metal door uncovered in the exact spot she had been informed it would be at.

The door was buried underneath layers of leaves and dirt, and was only found by an identifiable marked tree aside it.

Eventually, the door beneath her opened up, revealing a set of stone steps beneath and a guard who looked relieved to see her.

"Thank the gods it's you, your grace," he breathed out, "we've heard rumours that Jaime Lannister is leading an army towards here."

Fianna placed her hand on his shoulder, half for comfort and half for support so she could climb down into the underground passage.

"How did Hoster even manage to get this constructed?" She asked curiously, gesturing behind her for the party to follow. She could hear the echo of dripping water nearby, likely the area of the passage that was directly beneath the river.

"He wanted an easy escape for his children, should the Targaryens have laid siege to Riverrun," the guard explained, lifting his torch into the air and guiding them along the hallway, hundreds flooding in along with them.

"Oh the irony."

She looked behind her to see Paulina and Tiernan, each carrying one of her twins, and Rickon bumbling along behind. Aifric was napping soundly against her wet nurse's shoulder, so Fianna held her hands out for Eddie - who had grown antsy in his cousin's hold.

"I don't think I've ever met Uncle Brynden," Rickon brought up suddenly.

"Well, you're about to," Fianna smiled encouragingly down to the boy, who was more of a teenager now than a child. "You better be on your best behaviour.

"I'm not a _baby,_ " he moaned, much like a baby would, Fianna thought.

"Are you going to look after your niece and nephew?" Fianna asked, watching as his face lit up.

"Yes! Osha and Tiernan have trained me well. I can protect them!"

Fianna reached out and wrapped an arm around his shoulder casually as they walked, giving his arm a slight squeeze as a gesture of thanks.

They walked through the passage in silence until they reached another door, the tunnel was incredibly claustraphobic - Fianna was almost sure the river was due to cave in at any moment.

The guard lifted his hand to knock on the door, a special rhythm to his knocking - likely for security.

When the door opened, the guard led the others up another set of steps to the courtyard in Riverrun - a place which felt nostalgic to her now.

"Lord Brynden will be right with you," he informed her, as her men began to spread out amongst the open space.

Fianna took the moment to look around her surroundings, the last time she had been here, she was practically a child - but she was in love. She spent all of her days planning Robb's next battle, and every moment in between loving him.

"I'd hope that's my great nephew's child you're carrying," a very familiar voice called out, Fianna's head turned quickly to meet the face of its owner - her heart swelling as she looked upon the Blackfish again.

"Children actually," she corrected, an uncontrollable grin on her face as she nodded her head towards the babe in Paulina's arms, "that ones mine too."

"What? One little Robb wasn't enough?" He joked, his eyes bright as he moved forward and wrapped one arm around Fianna, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's good to see you, your grace."

"And you too, Brynden. I've actually missed your remarks, and that smell of old man piss you're always carrying around," she jibed with him, falling back into an easy camaraderie with him - almost as if they hadn't spent years apart.

"I'm no old man, I took back this old place by myself. Maybe I should get a crown and start calling myself King too."

"Gods, we have enough of them to worry about. Besides, you're a great _great_ uncle now, you're no young chicken."

He barked a laugh, his eyes falling between the babe in her arms and the one in the arms of their wet nurse.

"They look like their father," Brynden mused, " and their grandmother."

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement, pausing for a moment, "poor babes."

At this, he howled in laughter again as the last of Fianna's army finally reached the surface. There were easily five thousand packed inside Riverrun by now, and that was just Fianna's vanguard, not including those already there.

"They're all camping outside, I hope you know," he remarked as he looked around at the magnitude of people. "I suppose the little ones are staying too?"

"Just for a little while, it's not safe for them anywhere else right now," Fianna looked down sadly, the corners of mouth down turned. "I've brought provisions as compensation, as you said in your letters. I have a years supply of food along with me."

"Good, we should have two years worth here now. I'd like to see if the Lannisters will wait that long," he smirked triumphantly.

"Thank you, Brynden," she thanked him wholeheartedly. "I've been meaning to ask, what ever happened to Edmure?"

"I'm guessing he's either dead or being held at the Twins," Brynden looked down, as annoying as he found his nephew - there was no denying the familial love there.

"I suppose I'll find out," she smiled weakly.

* * *

It had been a few days since they had first arrived at Riverrun, and Fianna left the next day - taking a small garrison with her for protection. Anxiously - she knew that it wouldn't be enough should the Freys decide to take her prisoner or simply kill her. She had to trust in the fact that they saw it as a bigger benefit to carry through with their deal, than to outright kill her.

They had set up camp, her and one hundred men or so. She didn't have many to talk to, Tiernan stayed behind at Riverrun to command the men there. She still had Grey Wind however, who sensed his owners anxiety about the situation.

As she sat at a table in her tent, Grey Wind nudged his nose against her arm, almost to let her know he was there.

Fianna turned in her seat, a small smile on her lips as she leaned in and wrapped her arms around the direwolves massive neck. She hugged him for a few minutes, but Grey Wind didn't move at all - to allow her to continue taking comfort in him.

She was supposed to wait at their camp until the negotiators for the Freys arrived to confirm their arrangement, and sign a contract that assured both sides their declarations would be met.

"Your grace," Kane, an older guard announced as he entered her tent, causing her to immediately move back from Grey Wind and stand to meet him.

"What is it?"

"Our scout found someone lurking around the woodland behind the camp," he informed her, standing so straight she thought it would hurt his back. Fianna was growing tired of the fear some men held for her, as if she would kill them for stepping out of line.

"Send him in," she commanded, expecting to find a Frey soldier sent to suss out the size of Fianna's party.

"Apologies, your grace, but you mean _her_ ," the guard corrected her stiffly, causing her eyebrows to raise in mild interest. A female warrior wasn't something particularly new to her these days, after all, women now made up a quarter of her force in total. There was a massive influx after Fianna had announced women are encouraged to join her garrison as well.

Fianna waited, her mind too entirely fixed on the upcoming meeting with the Freys to care for a lowly scout.

She moved to a small table in the corner, lifting the jug of wine and filling a cup for herself - to calm her nerves.

"Got any more of that?" A voice suddenly sounded through the room, causing Fianna's entire body to freeze up. She hadn't even realised the wine was still pouring from her jug until the contents of the cup skimmed over the sides and down her fingers.

Absently, and a little too afraid to, she placed the cup and jug down and slowly began to look towards the entrance of her tent.

Sure enough, her ears did not fail her. Arya Stark was standing, mere feet away.

The two held each other's eyes for a few moments, each of them unsure of the other. She hadn't even realised Kane was along with her until he not-so-subtly cleared his throat.

"Leave us," she demanded quietly, still not daring to look away from Arya - in case she should disappear. Ever so slowly, she began to move towards her. When Arya didn't step back, Fianna rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, so much taller and stronger than she remembered.

Arya hesitated in surprise before wrapping her arms around her in return. They stayed like that for a moment, clutching each other tightly. When they pulled away, Fianna wiped underneath her eyes to rid the tears.

"Where in seven hells have you been?" She demanded, her voice thick with emotion.

"I doubt you'd believe me if I told you," Arya raised her eyebrows as she looked down with a smile. "So you're basically the King now?"

"Yeah," Fianna shook her head, having so much to say she didn't know where to start. "Arya, I thought you were dead- I thought they killed you at the Twins."

"And I thought they killed _you,_ so I ran. And ran, and ran," she trailed off, moving to sit down at the table, Fianna following and sitting right beside her.

"No, I don't think they ever planned to kill me, not right away anyway. They wanted my child so they could control the North," Fianna explained. Arya's eyes widened slightly as she looked up in surprise at this.

"You had the baby? I didn't even remember you were pregnant, I just assumed-" she broke off out of respect, but Fianna knew what she meant.

"I had the _babies_ , a set of twins. Aifric and Eddard, Eddie for short."

Arya smiled again at this, her teeth showing, she was a fan of the tale of Aifric Bua since childhood, and now her niece was named after her. With a mother like Fianna, the twins were set to be every bit as fierce as the ones they were named after.

"I like that."

"I want to hear your whole story, from start to finish, okay?" Fianna asked, placing her hand comfortingly on Arya's forearm. The younger girl cringed visibly at the demand.

"What if I can't tell you? What if you wouldn't understand?"

"Arya," Fianna began, offering her a smile, "there is nothing you could tell me that I would judge you for. Believe me, I am here for you now."

Hours had passed, and Fianna and Arya's throats were dry from how much they talked. Arya hadn't realised how deprived she was of meaningful conversation, the Hound and the Waif were hardly the best of company.

Arya had forced Fianna to relay her story first - and she did, telling Arya about her escape, about finding Catelyn, being hailed Queen and taking down the Dreadfort. Arya then, inspired by Fianna's honesty, gave her own tale. By the time she had finished, Fianna's eyebrows were scrunched and lips were parted in shock.

"Wow," she whispered, looking away for a moment to process. The gesture made Arya extremely anxious, she feared Fianna's reaction - if she would look at her in disgust or call her a liar.

Instead, Fianna surprised her completely by wrapping her arms around her again, squeezing her tightly in a hug, which Arya reciprocated.

"I can't believe Rickon's alive..." Arya mumbled after a few moments, prompting Fianna to pull away.

"He's been safe at Baelfort this entire time, Arya."

"And Bran?" Fianna looked down, a sad expression on her face.

"We've never been able to find him."

Arya nodded in acceptance, she long ago accepted the probability that her entire family had perished, to know that her sister and two of her brothers had survived, was a small mercy.

"I wonder where Sansa went," she mused in thought.

"I don't know," Fianna sighed, "maybe she went to Baelfort, my grandfathers there now."

Fianna had conveniently left one small detail out of her story - the revelation of her grandmother's identity. She would guard that secret to her death.

"Your grace," Kane re-entered the tent, Fianna let go of Arya's arm and sniffed slightly, clearing herself up before meeting his gaze. "Hosteen Frey has arrived."

Fianna's eyes dropped to Arya's, giving her the smallest of nods. "Run along now, you can wait in my tent until we're done."

Arya nodded in return, a gleam in her eye as she got up and moved to leave the tent. The interaction caused a suspicion in Kane, but he didn't dare question it.

"Send them in."

* * *

Lord Hosteen, was by all counts, a stooge.

During the entirety of the meeting, he barely spoke, save for the glance-over he gave Fianna when he first entered which prompted him to say "yeah, I'll take her."

He barely listened in fact, the ins and outs of the arrangement were discussed between Fianna and Black Walder - who acted as an envoy for Lord Walder.

Fianna watched him from the corner of her eye with self-pity as he rubbed his nose and let his eyes drift around the room, like a child being forced into attending their parents meeting.

"My father has requested no more than fifteen of your men are allowed to accompany you for the wedding," Black Walder informed her.

"Fifteen?!" She sputtered in shock, "so you can get the opportunity to murder me the second I step inside the Twins? Not a chance."

"It's not a request," he replied bored.

"Then I'm taking the direwolf with me," she demanded, nodding towards the growling animal who lay at her feet. Grey Wind wasn't so quick to forget the Freys in the room, nor to forgive them.

"If you must, then the wolf will count as one of the fifteen. It says it all in this contract we prepared for you," he sneered, looking at her in disgust. Very clearly, he was a man who held a grudge for Roslyn.

Fianna snatched the scroll roughly out of his hand and took her time to read it carefully, making sure there were no loopholes for them.

Essentially, the contract stated that Fianna nor Hosteen were allowed to cause death to the other before, or after, the marriage. A breach of this will result in an imminent sentence of death, to be officiated by either Walder or Tiernan. As discussed in their ravens, Fianna would not be harmed by anyone during the duration of her stay at the Twins, as a sign of trust, she in turn should only arrive with a party of no more than fifteen. None of these would be allowed to attend the actual ceremony.

As for the proceedings following the marriage, Hosteen would be named Lord of Baelfort and King Consort, and in turn, the Freys would provide their men for Fianna's army.

"The last time I was in your great hall," Fianna began, a deadly tone in her voice, "your family murdered all of my people there, as well as my husband and good mother. I barely escaped with my life. And now you expect me to go to another wedding there, my own at that, with not a single guard to protect me?"

"And the last time you were at the Twins you murdered an innocent girl to escape! Lord Walder wants to be sure that won't happen again," Black Walder replied, his tone equally as fierce.

"Fine," she conceded, "I'll agree to the terms."

After Black Walder gestured towards the dagger and feather laying on the table, she dabbed the tip of the feather in the ink well and signed her name. Then, she lifted the dagger and pierced her finger, allowing a drop of blood to fall next to her signature - a blood oath.

"I will be at the Twins within the week, with fourteen of my guards and one direwolf."

* * *

Contrasting to the armour she had boldly worn before, this time Fianna wore a pretty white dress.

Lord Walder had specifically requested he would walk her up the aisle. She hadn't seen him once since she had arrived, being immediately directed to her chambers.

Being back in the Twins was more traumatic than she thought it would be. Fianna never thought of herself as a cowardly woman, but being here and being reminded of the events of the past had set a chill and terror in her bones she had never felt before.

Cruelly, Walder had given her the exact same chambers she had once shared with Robb - as a reminder she would now be staying there alone.

At the very least, Fianna was only there one night by herself, because the wedding was set to take place the day after her arrival. But her night was spent sleepless, every time she closed her eyes she was met with the image of Robb's face as he fell to the ground, or of Catelyn's as her throat was slit. Her own screams, as well as her good mother's, echoed in her ears.

When the time had finally come, hours after being prepared by handmaidens for her wedding, Fianna waited just outside the Sept for Walder to escort her. Her teeth were clenched, chest fluttering with anxiety.

"Queen of the North," a grumbling voice, one that haunted her every day of her life, sounded from behind her. Taking a deep breath, Fianna turned with a forced smile.

"Lord Walder," she greeted, clamping down on a shiver when his wrinkled hand wrapped around her elbow. She looked into the eyes of her tormenter and had to hold down the bile rising up her throat.

"Pretty dress, I'd bet my sons will be excited to rip it off your back," he smirked, using his grip on Fianna's arm for support as his frail body began to lead them towards the door. "Let's hope you don't have any scars from that pregnancy."

"Oh I'm sure your sons will be most pleased, my lord," she spoke sweetly, facing forward as the doors opened for them to reveal a crowded room. "Just like I was at the feeling of your favourite daughter dying at my hand."

He looked over at her from the side of his eye, the smirk falling to a thin line on his lips, like he had sucked on a lemon.

"You'd be wise to watch your tongue. I'm sure you remember what happened the last time you insulted this family."

Fianna chose not to answer, trying to remember the real reason she was here at all and ignore him.

The room was silent as they walked through, filled with Frey family members - not a single ally of Fianna's in sight. She could feel the resentment from their stares like a hot rod burning against her back. After much debate, it was decided Grey Wind was allowed to the feast - but not the ceremony itself. Walder had supposed that a room full of able bodied men would be able to hold off one single direwolf.

When finally they had arrived at the top of the room, reaching Hosteen, her husband-to-be looked at her with a completely neutral expression; lifting the veil over her face as Walder slowly, shakily, returned to his seat.

Fianna moved to the side to face him directly, the High Septon in between the two. As the Freys worshipped the New Gods, Fianna was forced to hold a ceremony that followed their religion instead of her own. She supposed it didn't matter all that much anyway.

Fianna and Hosteen didn't smile or show any sort of emotion for the duration of the ceremony, instead, they looked into each other's eyes - like they were speaking a silent conversation.

When the vows were spoken and the ceremony had come to a close, it inevitably came to the point where they had to kiss to seal the sacrament. Fianna swallowed harshly in disgust, Hosteen hesitating before very quickly moving forward and pressing the quickest of pecks to her lips. Moving back as if he had been harmed.

The moment was awkward for both, but hilarious for the rest of the room - who erupted in raucous laughter at their expense.

After the ceremony, the wedding party had moved to the Great Hall for celebrations, the one place Fianna was not looking forward to going. The second she stepped inside the door, she was hit with its energy. She wouldn't be surprised if the souls of the dead were there, still.

It was palpable enough to stop her in her step. Fianna, after a moment of fighting against the crushing sensation, forced her feet to move forward - walking to the high table in a complete daze. Hosteen came to sit beside her, with Walder taking the centre seat.

Fianna sneaked a glance around the room as everyone took their seats for the meal. The chatter in the room was lively, but for the three seated at the top, it was completely silent.

Once her gaze landed on it, Fianna wasn't able to take her eyes away. A massive blood stain, brown from the years that had passed, was still soaked into the stone ground. It looked as if no one had even attempted to clean it, probably trying to preserve it as a memory. She knew exactly who the blood belonged to.

Hosteen followed Fianna's eyes, realising where they were directed, and decided to distract her by turning to his father.

"Father," he called out, Walder grunting in response, "I think it's time for the pigeon pie and wine, don't you?"

Instead of using words, he merely grunted to show his approval, lifting his own cup from the table and slamming it down to quiet the room. When it was silent, he began to speak.

"I'm sure you're all wondering why this Bua whore is marrying into our family, after all, we wanted her dead before. Well, some of us still do," he began, causing a short eruption of laughter and Fianna to exhale audibly, containing her anger. "Well, only one of my sons will be taking over the Twins when I die, it might have even been Black Walder if he hadn't decided the pretty girl he seen on his travels was worth missing his brother's wedding for.

"But alas, Hosteen here had no chance of being a Lord before now. And now, he will be much more than that," Walder clapped his son on the back, who forced a smile and a wave. "So let us drink wine until our piss becomes red, and eat until we have to be rolled from our beds!"

Everyone cheered with their empty cups raised high, prompting Walder to gesture towards the servants who waited off to the side, carrying jugs of wine and pushing the cart which held the pie.

Hosteen and Fianna left the top table, moving down towards the pie beneath them. Lifting a knife and cutting into it swiftly, the Frey son carved the first piece, Hosteen slid the sliced pie onto a small plate.

Fianna held her hand out and placed it gently on his forearm to stop him.

"My love," she began, looking as innocent as ever, "I fear I've been _remiss_ with my duties as a good-daughter." She shot a look towards Lord Walder as she spoke, his eyes narrowing at her choice of words. "Please, allow our Lord to have the first piece. It feels only right."

"You're completely right," Hosteen agreed with a warm smile, returning to the top table to place the plate in front of Walder - who refused to take his eyes off the Northern Queen.

Getting a plate of his own, and one for his new wife, the two returned to the table. Now that they had cut into it, the servants were allowed to serve out a slice of pie to the rest of the room.

Everyone in the room began to eat, all except Fianna and Hosteen, who pushed the food about with his fork.

"You're not eating, boy?" Walder leaned in and asked him.

"I want my stomach empty for when I take my new wife to bed," he replied, waggling his eyebrows at his father.

Before anyone had the chance to finish their pie, Hosteen stood up and began to speak as the cups were being filled with wine.

"Brothers, cousins, nephews - as a thank you for being here at my wedding to show your support, I have secured some of the finest arbour gold in the Seven Kingdoms. None of that Dornish piss, proper wine, for proper men. But first, a toast," he called out, raising his cup into the air, prompting everyone else to follow suit. All except Walder.

"Although she may once have been the enemy, I am proud to be married to the woman seated here today," he smiled down at her as everyone rose from their seats, Fianna included. "She has made me a King and a Lord of a great house, even if it means having to put up with her."

The men laughed heartily at his joke, raising their cups higher along with Hosteen and bringing it to their lips, swallowing it feverishly. Hosteen stopped his cup just before it touched his lips, looking over as Fianna began to address Walder.

"My lord, you have not touched your pie," she pointed out, tilting her head. "I helped make it, I wanted it to be to your satisfaction."

"We both made it, father," Hosteen continued, a smirk on his lips. "I even added a special ingredient I knew you'd like."

Fianna stood, moving to stand on the opposite side of Walder.

"I noticed a mistake in your speech though, my lord," she pointed out, Walder more suspicious than ever as he looked back between Fianna and Hosteen. "Black Walder is here, he's right next to Hosteen."

Confusedly, he looked over to his son and inspected the area surrounding him, whipping his head back to her when he saw nothing.

"What are you talking about, girl?" He spat the word. Fianna's smirk only widened as she leaned down, her hand moving towards the pie.

"I told you," she whispered in his ear, as she broke back the outer layer of pastry to reveal the stuffing inside, where a finger nail, clear as day - was stuffed inside of it. "He's right next to Hosteen."

Walder sputtered in absolute horror, turning back to shout for his family to murder the woman quickly, or at least to stop eating the pie. But before he could even begin to speak, he was cut off by the sudden chorus of coughs that sounded out across the room.

Walder could do nothing but watch as his entire family were reacting to something he was unaware of, some coughing up blood onto the table in front of them, some howling in pain, some throwing up onto the floor. There were a handful who were not reacting at all, the cup of untouched wine on their table.

Fianna whistled softly, which sent Grey Wind hurtling forward. The massive grey direwolf shot towards the nearest, unaffected Frey, tearing his throat to pieces in a death much more harsh than the wolfsbane sweeping through everyone else's system.

Grey Wind continued on his rampage, prompting two men to sprint towards the exit. They hit their fists against the locked door harshly, begging to be allowed out, in a scene that was parallel to the last wedding Fianna attended at the Twins.

"What have you done?!" He shouted in terror, Fianna and Hosteen didn't answer, the former moving away and making her way down to the path between the benches. "Hosteen, do something!"

"Hosteen can't do much buried inside of a pie, now can he?" Fianna answered back, confusing Walder again as his head turned to look up at who he thought was his son.

Fianna walked to the aisle, shoving the cart with the pie on it to the side and ignoring the shouts of pain from all around her. Her sole attention was placed on the blood stain that had captured her from the second she entered.

Bending down to a crouch, tears filling her eyes, Fianna brushed her fingers over the spot.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, hoping beyond hope that there was an afterlife so that _he_ could hear her.

Meanwhile, Walder was staring at Fianna in confusion, his breathing becoming quick as his chest constricted.

"So you're going to kill my whole family, is that it? All because of one stupid Northern boy?" Walder shouted at her, voice mixed with fear and anger. "Kill me and be done with it, you cowardly whore!"

Fianna stood up again and dragged her eyes away to look at the River lord, a tired smile on her lips.

"Kill you?" She questioned, "I'm not going to kill you." His eyes narrowed as she shook her head softly, wondering if this meant he was in for a round of torture by her hand, but Fianna wasn't finished. "But she will."

Her head had nodded to the area beside Walder, but as he looked up, all he could see was his son - who was very clearly not a 'she'.

Hosteen lifted his hand up to his chin, and swiftly began to tug until the mask had slipped away, leaving Arya Stark in its wake.

Walder couldn't breathe at all now, his hand flying up to his chest as he struggled to move away from her.

"What are you?" He forced out, his voice tight.

"My name is Arya Stark, of Winterfell," Arya spoke calmly, looking swiftly over to Fianna, as the elder girl began to walk up the steps to stand in front of the table - eager to watch the upcoming events.

"The last thing you're ever going to see is a Stark smiling down at you, as you die."

As he tried to move away again, Arya gripped him by the shoulder and dragged him backwards, lifting the blade up to his neck and slitting his throat.

The blood began to spray outward, coating Fianna and her white dress - but after all, it was why she wore the colour in the first place.

Walder shook as the cut ripped the blood from his body, it wasn't long before he died in Arya's arms. When it was finished, and every single man in the room had perished, Arya let him drop to the ground beneath her.

Fianna watched with a calm expression, her hands crossed in front of her. Both of the duo's heads turned at the sound of a girl whimpering in the corner against the wall.

"When people tell you what happened here, tell them that Fianna Stark had her revenge. And that the North remembers," Fianna spoke to her, voice as calm as she looked.

Arya began to make her descent down the steps, joining Fianna at her side.

"Tell them Winter came for House Frey," Arya added, turning to Fianna.

The both of them let out a small sigh, their calm demeanours momentarily breaking to reveal the scared, stricken girls underneath their hard exteriors.

Fianna held her elbow out to Arya, and without question, she looped her own arm around Fianna's, beginning to walk towards the exit.

As they did so, the unmistakable sounds of screams could be heard outside, along with shouts.

They knocked on the door, which unlocked and opened finally to reveal the scene.

Armour-clad men and women were pouring over the wall, devouring any man who dared to try and stop them. Bodies littered the ground, both from the Freys and the Northern army.

At the sight of their Queen, the fighting stopped momentarily as she held her hand in the air to cease the bloodshed. The Northerners stopping out of command, the Frey guards stopping out of shock from her blood-stained appearance.

Arya came to stand by her, while Grey Wind trotted to her other side, teeth coated in blood and snarling in warning.

"The Freys are dead," Fianna began to shout, her revelation causing an eruption of cheers from the Northern side. When they died down to silence, she continued. "As I have killed all of Walder's heirs, I hereby lay claim to the Twins and the surrounding lands. Those of you that have fought for the Freys, you have three options.

"You can escape with your life, leaving everything you have here behind. You can stay here, refuse to pledge loyalty to me and be killed accordingly. Or you can join me, live here and fight for the Northern cause. Understand that this is a mercy on my behalf, you all have an hour to make your decision, and it applies to _all_ residents here - so spread the word."

When her speech had finished, some had tried to fight the Northern soldiers again - but the gate had been opened by then, and the guards stationed at the Twins were now outnumbered two to one.

Some had ran straight out of the gates, leaving their lives and families behind at the Twins. Some had held their weeping wives and children as they mulled over their decision.

Fianna would have felt guilt, but this was war. And there was only so much compassion she could give to the small folk before they began to take advantage of it.

Tiernan approached Fianna on the steps, taking in her bloodied appearance.

"I thought you were going to wait at the wedding until we had arrived? How did you manage to take everyone down yourself?" He questioned, eyes flicking to the smaller girl at her side.

"We came up with another plan," Fianna's eyes dropped to Arya, who looked back up at her.

Within the hour, about fifteen hundred of the three thousand at the castle had fled. Five hundred waited to the side, prepared to die for their loyalty. One thousand had waited to the other, prepared to continue their work under a new Lord.

"What would you have us do with those that refuse to pledge fealty?" Tiernan asked, gesturing towards the group.

"What I said you'd do," she reminded him, "execute them. We don't award loyalty to traitors."

* * *

 **PHEWIE. Let's break it down.**

 **I hope I didn't overhype it for it to fall flat, but this chapter right here has been in my head since I wrote the very first chapter of this book. This was always going to happen, Fianna and Arya were always going to team up and take down the Freys together.**

 **For those confused, Arya and Fianna killed Black Walder and Hosteen when they visited their camp - Arya had then disguised herself as Hosteen and returned to the Twins without Black Walder, saying that his brother had found a pretty lady on his travels and was off frolicking with her. When really, Arya and Fianna were making a pie out of the two.**

 **It was similar, but not that similar to her destroying the Dreadfort. Instead of ruining the castle, Fianna's going to keep it. So the Northern border has extended into the Riverlands, now that she has the Twins and the Blackfish has pledged fealty to her.**

 **Don't worry, I haven't forgotten Edmure. He'll be coming back and his storyline WILL change from the canon, as I have said the whole book - THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT. He can't be a prisoner any longer for Walder Frey because he's dead, and even if he was and was sent to the Blackfish to surrender - he wouldn't have anything to surrender for. Because Roslyn was killed by Fianna.**

 **Also, to clarify, because Hosteen died, Fianna isn't married to him. She's not technically married to Arya either because Arya used Hosteen's name, so it's void. Even if she had married Hosteen, it would still be ruled void eventually because she's married to Robb and he's still alive. That awkward wedding kiss between Arya and Fianna tho. Yikes.**

 **Im affectionally calling this the White Wedding, because of Fianna's dress and some forms of wolfsbane are white.**

 **I truly hope this chapter has lived up to everyone's expectations and that everyone likes it. It's the longest I've done since the Red Wedding at nearly six and a half thousand words. Please let me hear opinions if you have any!**

 **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed!**

 **celine-sLineC-Line - happy to hear it! I hope you still feel the same after this chapter! x**

 **reaganrose115- thank you! 3**

 **elidarose - wow that is such a massive compliment! Thank you so much and I hope you continue to like reading it! 3**

 **starevolution1273 - AHHHH YOUR EXCITEMENT ALWAYS GETS ME SO PUMPED NOW IM EXCITED TOO. I love love LOVE your reactions to what I write, you're an absolute angel reviewing and you really inspire me to write the next chapter quickly every week! Thanks so much sweetie! xx**

 **purple-Pygmy-puff16 - I hope it lived up to your expectations and you enjoyed it! xx**

 **Guest - if you mean another Red Wedding as in everyone dies then yes, if you mean another Red Wedding where she's betrayed by the Freys, not this time ;)**

 **willow441988 - so happy to hear that! Let me know what you think of this chapter I'd love to know! x**


	45. (XLIV) I Am Robb Stark

_Song: Another Love by Tom Odell_

 _Sansa_

Edd had apologised to Sansa for the food she was served, claiming the Night's Watch were not known for having the most extravagant dishes.

Little did he know, this was probably the best meal Sansa had in years - made especially sweeter by the fact she wasn't at all anxious about whether or not it was poisoned.

A man burst through the door and disrupted the quiet meal, holding up a small scroll and marching towards Jon.

"A letter for you, Lord Commander," he greeted him, handing over the scroll. Jon looked particularly peeved by this, she noticed. The words felt foreign to her ears, she had been so accustomed to hearing people call him 'bastard' or simply 'Jon'.

"I'm not Lord Commander, any more," he retorted in a rough voice, turning back to the table with the letter in hand. Jon's eyes gazed over the Bolton seal, and a newfound tension came over the table and it's inhabitants.

Frustratedly, he broke it open and unrolled the letter, beginning to read it aloud.

"To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow," it began. "You allowed thousands of wildlings south of the wall. You have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard, come and see. Fianna Stark has killed the Frey family," Jon stopped to meet Sansa's eyes, the two's breath hitching, "while she is in the South with the entire Northern army, there will be nothing stopping me from reaching Castle Black. I want my bride-to-be back, send her to me - bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me, and I will slaughter every wildling man, woman and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living, you-" he broke off, his eyes skimming over the next line. Decidedly, he knew better than to read it, and folded up the scroll again.

"Go on," Sansa demanded.

"It's just more of the same," he refused, prompting her to snatch the letter from his hands and continue to read it.

"You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North."

She placed the letter back down on the table dejectedly, clearly shaken from its contents, looking to Jon for a reaction.

" _Lord_ of Winterfell and Warden of the North?" He echoed, his shoulders tense with anger.

"His father's dead. Fianna sent a man undercover to kill him, although I'm still not so sure it wasn't Ramsay. And now she's gone South for the gods know how long-"

"We don't know that," Jon refuted.

"Yes we do," she cut him off. "Fianna has promised revenge since the Red Wedding, she took down the Dreadfort and now she had taken down the Twins, and taken half the North with her."

"She can ride North, she done it before when the Greyjoys tried to take Baelfort."

"How many men does he have in his army?" Tormund interjected.

"I heard him say five thousand once when he was talking about Stannis' attack," Sansa guessed. Jon, a plan forming in his head, turned eagerly to Tormund.

"How many do you have?"

"That can march in a fight?" Tormund mulled it over, "two thousand. The rest are children and old people."

Jon looked to Sansa, who was devising a plan of her own, "you're the son of the last true Warden in the North. Northern families are loyal, they'll fight for you if you ask."

"Those that haven't pledged fealty to Fianna are pledged to Ramsay," Jon shook his head.

"Fianna isn't a Stark!" Sansa sighed, throwing her hands up exasperatedly.

"No but her son is," Jon revealed, causing her expression to freeze.

"Her _son_?"

"Robb got Fianna pregnant before he died, she gave birth to twins - a boy and a girl. That's why she was named Queen. She's the regent for her son, the heir to the North."

Sansa was positively taken aback by the news, she always wondered about the sudden fealty to a Bua - and a girl at that. Never had she considered for a second that it would be because of this.

"Then we send her a raven," Sansa pleaded, leaning forward and gripping his hand. "A _monster_ has taken our home and he's going to take _us_ too, we have to go back to Winterfell, take it back and stop him. If her army is large enough for the Freys, it is large enough for the Bolton's with the Wildling army combined."

Jon hesitated. In truth, war wasn't something he intended to ever partake in since his brother died. But Sansa was right. The words "Lord of Winterfell" had royally angered him, it was a small mercy his father wasn't alive to see what had become of the North.

So with a heavy heart and a newfound spirit, he nodded his head.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Fianna and Tiernan watched in silence as the Frey banners were removed from the walls of the Twins, new ones being rolled out in their place.

"So, is young Arya coming back with us? Surely she'll want to meet her brother," Tiernan asked, bumping his shoulder against hers. Fianna's expression furrowed when she realised she wasn't sure.

"I don't actually know, I just assumed that she was coming back with us. I suppose I'll have to talk to her before we set out for Riverrun," Fianna mused, a small smirk to her lips when the banner finally dropped, revealing a green banner instead of a grey one, as the Starks bore.

Fianna looked to Tiernan for his reaction, his eyes were narrowed as his gaze scraped over the banner. A green background, with a white paw print - clear as day. He turned to look at his cousin for an explanation.

"Fianna," he began, trying to find words, "are you renouncing your Stark name? Are you Fianna Bua now again?"

"No," she sighed softly with a shake of her head. "I feel it would be disrespectful of me to do that to Robb. The truth is, I'm not taking this place for myself."

"Then..." he started, trailing off as he began to realise. "Who?"

"You," she smiled at the sudden shock on his face. "I would have taken this place for myself and given you Baelfort, but please understand that even standing in this courtyard makes me feel sicker than you can imagine. My children are Starks, they're going to continue their line. But they will not continue the Bua line.

"I want you to have the Twins. I want the Twins to be the new Bua stronghold," she reached out and gripped his forearm. "But only if you want it."

"B-but," he stammered, struggling to reply. "I'm not a Bua, I'm a Brady..."

"If you wanted to change your name to Bua, I'll sign a letter permitting it. If you want to keep your name Brady, rest assured, if you still want it - the Twins is yours," she bit her lip nervously, hoping he would see her reasoning behind this.

Fianna had come to realise how much she had taken advantage of her cousin over the past few years. She hoped this gesture would help him see that she saw his gifts, and knew that he would make an excellent Lord.

"I have cousins on my father's side who will continue my line," he explained to her, his lips stretching into a smile of his own. "I want to be able to continue my mother's side too."

She beamed brightly at him, "very well, my _Lord_."

He let out a chuckle, looking around the place with newfound interest.

"You had to go and cover my house in blood, didn't you? You'll be cleaning it up before you go," he poked her in the side, causing her to rear around and smack his arm playfully.

"Your grace," a voice sounded from behind her. The two cousins turned, revealing Kane behind them. "We've been freeing the prisoners like you ordered, but there's two you may want to meet with."

"Why?" She asked, following after him inside towards the Great Hall - which was currently being used to tend to the prisoners, feeding them, tending to their wounds.

They were mainly thieves, no one she would have recognised. As she walked through the tables, occasionally one would call out their gratitude to her, to which she would smile politely to.

When they reached the end of the hall and to the final tables, Fianna stopped dead in her step upon noticing one of the prisoners - who was propped sitting up on the table and slurping at a bowl of soup.

"Edmure?" She asked in a gasp, moving forward quickly to inspect him. He was much thinner now, with longer hair and a significant red haired beard. But he was still Edmure Tully, to be sure.

He looked up from his bowl to her, his eyes bloodshot.

"Hello, Fianna," he greeted, his voice sounding weak and low.

"You were here this entire time?" She asked, guilt and horror flooding through her body at the sight of him.

"The entire time," he smiled weakly, "some of us didn't get to escape." He gestured towards another figure sitting near him, who she recognised as Lord Patrek Mallister.

"Greatjon Umber was held captive as well," Edmure brought her out of her revere with his words, her eyes full of hope at the possibility of saving a Lord who she had once considered a friend. "He died a few months ago from an infection."

Edmure's eyes were brimming with hatred as he regarded upon her, exacerbating her guilt tenfold.

"Edmure... I'm so sorry, I had no idea-"

"That when you forced me to marry Roslyn Frey that her father would kill my kinsman and imprison me for three years?" Edmure cut over her. Weakly, she nodded her head. "Well, you're here now."

"Blackfish is alive too," she offered, stepping closer to him and smiling softly, hoping to encourage him or at least lift his spirits, "he took back Riverrun from the Lannisters and the Freys."

Edmure didn't answer her, staring ahead blankly, almost as if he was completely void of life.

She reached forward, attempting to squeeze his thin arm in encouragement, but he shoved his arm away out of her reach before she got the chance.

* * *

Once again, they travelled through the cramped tunnel towards Riverrun with a smaller garrison than before.

Fianna had presented a choice to the seven hundred men and women who made up the Bua force, whether or not they wanted to remain at Baelfort or live now at the Twins, serving their rightful Lord. She was well aware that some had families back at Baelfort and would not want to relocate completely.

Around five hundred had stayed with Tiernan, loyal to the Bua household, and determined to start new lives there, and to escape the cold winds of the coming Winter. Combined with the Frey soldiers who had now pledged fealty to House Bua and to Queen Fianna, Tiernan commanded an army of around two thousand.

Edmure hadn't spoken a word to Fianna since they first encountered, much to her regret. Every time she tried, he would stare at her blankly or completely ignore her existence. The torture and brutality the man had been under for the past few years would have been unimaginable. Fianna had only experienced it for a few days, and they were the worst of her life.

Arya walked quickly beside her, unlike Fianna - Edmure had welcomed Arya in. He supposed they shared one thing in common, at the time of the Red Wedding and the hours before, they both had a reason to hate the Bua queen. Arya, for not telling her about her arranged marriage, and Edmure - for helping forcing him into one because Robb had married Fianna.

Arya still held a small resentment over it, but years had passed and the anger had soon turned into acceptance. After all, she doubted Fianna would have allowed Arya to be married off at all. And to a Frey, at that.

When safely inside, the Blackfish had approached them, a hearty grin on his face.

"Nothing more dangerous than a woman with a crown," he joked, Fianna chuckling softly. His good humour had faltered when he noticed the smaller girl next to her, and the familiar looking man behind her.

"By the gods," he murmured, rushing forward with widened eyes. "Arya and Edmure, is that you two?"

"Rickon?" Arya asked in a gasp, pushing forward at the sight of the curly haired boy behind Brynden.

"Arya?" Rickon repeated in shock, his mouth falling open. The siblings spent a moment taking each other in, their eyes wide in amazement. Arya was the first to break, moving forward and flinging her arms around her brother. Her brother, who was once so small and young, was now the same height as her.

Rickon buried his head into her shoulder, clutching her as if she was the only air left in the world. Arya did the same in return, her fingers gripping him tight enough to turn her fingertips white.

* * *

"She looks like Robb," Arya mused, awkwardly sitting with Aifric in her lap. Arya wasn't sure she ever held a child in her life, and now she was here with a bouncing toddler, who babbled and fiddled with Arya's clothing.

"I think she has a little bit of Sansa in her," Fianna tilted her head, inspecting her daughter from her position by the fire place. "Now that I've seen what your sister looks like, I think she looks like Sansa."

"I can't imagine raising two children by myself," she forced a smile, Fianna couldn't help but giggle. If there was anyone she knew that didn't have a motherly instinct in their body - it was Arya Stark.

"I have help," Fianna smiled, referring to her now absent cousin. "There's something I have to ask you."

"Mama," Aifric cooed from her position in Arya's lap, holding her hand out. Fianna beamed brightly, ever since her children began to say a word here and there, she felt as if her heart would explode when she heard them call for her.

Fianna stepped forward and lifted up the child, resting her on her hip and looking down at her with a heartened expression for a moment.

"What is it you had to ask?"

"Are you coming back with us to Baelfort?" Fianna looked back at her good-sister, eyebrows raised as she searched for an answer.

"Oh," Arya murmured, standing up from her seat and moving to look out the window. "I haven't finished what I came here to do, Fianna..."

"You came here to reunite with your family, and now you have done that."

"I also came back to get revenge," she turned around to face her, face stony. "Tell me, what is next on your agenda as Queen?"

"Winterfell," Fianna answered immediately, already discussing with her Lords how they would take the Boltons down - the fact was, they were shorter in numbers than they were a few weeks ago. "Don't you want to help me take back your home and get our final slice of revenge?"

"Final?" Arya's eyes narrowed. "Cersei Lannister is still alive. The Bolton's aren't our last enemies."

"Arya," Fianna began with a sigh, preparing herself for what was sure to be an argument. "The Lannisters aren't really on my mind."

"What?" She hissed. "They are the ones who _orchestrated_ the wedding. It was their plan, the Bolton's and the Freys just followed it."

"That's war, Arya," Fianna explained, "we made plans to kill them too. The Freys and Boltons _betrayed_ us, we would have killed the Lannisters too if we had the chance."

"I can't believe you," her tone dropped to a deadly one. "You and Robb began this entire war for the Lannisters and now you're letting them _away_ with it? They murdered my father!"

"I know exactly what they done!" Fianna began to shout back, startling Aifric. She huffed and spent a moment soothing the girl, before placing her down in the crib aside the fireplace. When she turned back to Arya, her face was solemn. "I have been fighting this war for what- five years? I have been at death's door more times than there are scars on my body. I lost my husband and my good-mother, as well as _all_ of my men at a point in time. I'm a mother now, and even still I took down two great castles. I am _tired,_ Arya. I want to go home and I want to raise my children, with you, Tiernan, Rickon, Jon and Sansa _safe_ and Winterfell out of the enemies hands. That's what I want."

"You think Cersei won't march her men North and kill you all the second you kill the Boltons?" Arya scoffed in anger.

"She can try. Winter is coming, and with the entire North as well as Riverrun and the Twins - she knows better than to wage war with us until the season has passed."

Arya was silent, shaking her head in disapproval. It took minutes before she was able to speak again.

"I can't just let her away with it, she has to die."

"Yes, she does," Fianna agreed, "but you can't take her on yourself. Come back with me to Baelfort, help me take back Winterfell. Be with your brother - we'll even find Sansa and let you visit Jon. You can't go off on your own when we just got you back..."

"I'll help you take back Winterfell," Arya murmured, her eyes cast to the ground. "But when it's done, I'm going to kill Cersei. And you won't be able to stop me."

And with that, she left the room.

* * *

 _Blackfish_

He waited alongside Edmure for the drawbridge to fall down completely, revealing a waiting Jaime Lannister on the other side.

Brynden Tully hadn't gotten the chance to have a long conversation with Edmure yet, and surprisingly, he had truly tried to.

Edmure was traumatised, that much was clear. The bickering between the two before had always been familial, but now it seemed that Edmure truly had grown to resent his family - probably feeling as if he had been left behind.

They had tried to clean Edmure up as much as they could - give him a hair cut, shave his beard, clean him up. However, he still looked as skinny and frail as he did when Fianna's men found him. And there was nothing that could hide that.

The Northern Queen had left the day before, luckily for her and her army, as mere hours later the Lannisters had arrived and were currently camped out at Riverrun.

The Blackfish and Edmure walked alongside each other towards the Lannister knight. Brynden would have preferred not to show off his newly recovered nephew already, but Edmure was the Lord of Riverrun, and he, the mere commander.

"Kingslayer," Brynden greeted with a sly smirk.

"Blackfish," he replied, his tone as equally as flat.

"I assume you're here to fulfil the vow you made to my niece?" Mockingly, he looked around at the surrounding area. "I don't see Sansa or Arya."

Edmure was tense from the moment he saw Jaime, contempt and hatred fuelling his body to the point he wished he was able to kill him where he stood.

"I don't have them," Jaime shrugged slightly.

"Pity," Brynden cooed sarcastically, "do you wish to resume your captivity?"

Jaime sighed, growing impatient with Brynden's childishness.

"Then why are you here?"

"You know why I'm here. This castle belongs to House Frey."

"This castle has belonged to the Tully's for centuries, and it belongs to me now," Edmure spoke up, despite having been told to converse as little as possible.

"Besides," Brynden chuckled, "there is no House Frey for it to belong to."

"Then it now belongs to the Crown. In the name of King Tommen, I order you to surrender, or-"

"Or what?" Brynden raised his brows. "He's not _King_ Tommen to us. In case you haven't heard, we've pledged to the Queen of the North now. Better taxes. You should try it."

"And because we have pledged fealty, all we have to do is send word to the North and you'll have five thousand Northerners at your tail. And that doesn't include the men _we_ have inside," Edmure cut in, relishing in the sensation of finally being able to threaten another again, after being the one threatened for so long.

"Well then we'll have to storm the castle. Hundreds will die."

"Hundreds of mine," the Blackfish turned to look out over the river, Jaime's threats falling on deaf ears. "Thousands of yours. _If_ you can breach the walls."

"We'll breach them, and kill every last one of you. But if you surrender, I'll spare your men. On my honour."

"Your honour?" Edmure fake laughed in amusement, "was it for your honour when you pushed a small child from a tower? Or when you planned for the murder of my sister?"

"Bargaining with oathbreakers is like building on quick sand," Blackfish added.

"The war is over, Ser. Why sacrifice living men for a lost cause?"

"The war is over is it?" He turned to face him, that same amused and easy smile on his lips. "One of the great households of Westeros was completely wiped out, and you think this war is any where near being finished? You have scorned the Starks. You have scorned the North and you have scorned this family. As long as I am standing, the war is not over.

"This is my home. I was born in this castle and I'm ready to die in it. So you can either attack, try to starve us out or we can send word to Fianna Stark and flush you out like the rats you are. We have enough provisions for two years. Do you have two years, Kingslayer?"

With that, the Blackfish turned and began to make his way inside again, but Edmure was not finished with the discussion.

"Sooner or later, every household in the North will be united with a King that isn't Tommen. It won't be Stannis. It may not be Fianna, but there will be a day where you and your whore of a sister will be overthrown. Until that day comes, we will not leave this castle."

As he began to walk back inside, following Brynden's suit, Jaime shouted behind them, sounding pleadingly desperate.

"You clearly don't care for the safety of your men! Why don't you come treat with me?"

"I wanted to see you in person, get the measure of you," Brynden explained, having turned back to look at him.

"Well, now you have."

"Aye, I have. I'm disappointed."

As the drawbridge began to close with the Tully men safely inside again, Jaime Lannister began to trample back to camp, frustrated from the lack of progress. He didn't fail to hear the Blackfish's call from over the closing wooden door.

"The answer is no!"

* * *

 _Fianna_

There was a long journey ahead of them until they arrived at Baelfort, and Fianna - sick of riding on the inside of a carriage, allowed herself the freedom of riding a horse again. The whet nurse had claimed to be fine with watching the twins inside, and they had both fallen asleep in a nap. So she rode alongside it, promising to only be outside for an hour or so.

After a short time, Grey Wind stopped in his trot beside her, whimpering and turning towards the tree line. Fianna called out for the party to stop, watching in worry as Grey Wind began to sniff the ground and let out a loud howl, which echoed through the trees.

"What is it, boy?" She dismounted her horse and moved beside him, his ears flattened against his head.

"Nymeria roams the woods, perhaps he can sense her," Arya offered, dismounting as well and moving towards the woman trying to calm the direwolf.

"Who's Nymeria?"

"My direwolf. I set her free to protect her, they were siblings..."

"Do you think he wants to be with her?" Fianna asked sadly, her heart breaking as Grey Wind howled again. She had seen him in many moods, and knew that this was not the demeanour he held when an enemy was near.

"Direwolves are pack animals," Arya told her, watching on as Grey Wind stared forward. "I don't think we should have ever separated them, or tried to control them."

Fianna's chest tightened at the younger girl's words, knowing full well what she had to do, but also aware that it would break her heart to do so.

With tears pricking in her eyes, Fianna rounded around and crouched down to face Grey Wind, cupping his face and rubbing his fur. Despite having his children, Robb's last remaining connection with Fianna was through his direwolf. The gigantic wolf had protected her ever since the Red Wedding, had comforted her when she cried, had slept outside her children's room to protect them, and now she had to part to allow the wolf to enjoy its natural wildness.

"Go," she whispered, backing away to the side and standing upright. Grey Wind looked confused by the command, until she pointed towards the forest and said it again.

He didn't need to be told another time, breaking into a sprint as he flew towards the forest, disappearing from sight within seconds. His howl became less audible as he moved away from them.

With a sadness in her chest, Fianna turned around and decided this time she would ride inside the carriage, instead of beside it. Truly, she just needed to hold her children.

* * *

 _Robb_

"I can't believe you let yourself get so beaten down that you couldn't even remember who you were," Thoros mumbled in disapproval, as Robb settled back into another one of his meditative rituals.

Upon hearing Beric's theory and Robb's traumatic history, Thoros began to do a nightly ritual with him - one that he had picked up many years ago with a man who suffered from memory loss.

Every night, he would have Robb look into the flames, and ask the Lord of Light to abolish the blockage in his brain preventing him from being his true self.

Robb would then close his eyes, falling into a state between conscious worlds where he was able to answer Thoros freely. Thoros would ask simple questions at first - such as the colour of his mother's hair or the river nearest his home.

Slowly, he would reveal more and more details about himself, which corresponded to Beric's theory. Robb had revealed the names of his parents, siblings and wife. Beric had debated with Thoros that perhaps it was the madness inside the man who conjured these answers. But the red priest was adamant that in the state he was in, he wouldn't have been able to lie.

The real breakthrough had come from moments ago, when Thoros had asked the final question, the most important of all.

"Tell me," he began, his voice low and near Robb's ear, "tell me your name."

"Robb Stark," he had replied instantly, his voice coming out as a whisper. Thoros met eyes with Beric, the look showing everything that needed to be said.

"He's ready," Beric murmured, "he's ready to go home."

Thoros nodded, lifting his hand into the air and clicking his fingers, a motion that always broke Robb out of his trance. Luckily, he always remembered afterwards everything they discussed between them.

When he opened his eyes, his eyebrows were furrowed, sitting up slowly and staring forward in bewilderment.

"How do you feel?" Thoros questioned him, slapping him encouragingly on the back.

"I feel..." Robb began, looking down for a second before meeting his gaze, the look on his face more determined than Thoros had ever seen the man wear. "It's time for me to go home. To my family."

"Well it's about bloody time," Beric sighed in exasperation, standing up from his space on the log and putting his hands on his waist. "Your woman is waiting for you at the Twins."

"What?" Robb asked in confusion, his eyes narrowed slightly as he followed suit and stood up as well.

"Your lady, your Queen, your _Fianna_ just took down the Freys, she's claimed the land for herself. So I'm assuming that's where you'll find her."

Robb hesitated, a sudden sense of fear enveloping him as Thoros shuffled around behind him. Tapping the redhead former King on the shoulder to grab his attention, Thoros handed him a sack full of things to carry with him.

"Go, get your horse and get on with it."

Robb grabbed the bag slowly, clutching it in his hand before looking up to his friend with the slightest of smirks.

"Okay."

* * *

 **My heart is so full from the positive reactions to the previous chapter, it was a bit of a risk writing wise so to get such support is absolutely amazing.**

 **With Arya, Sansa, Jon, Rickon and now Robb I feel like Fianna is throwing a big massive reunion party.**

 **By the way, if anyone is a fan of Stranger Things, I've started a Steve Harrington/OC story which you'll find on my profile. It's full of cheesy jokes, 80s culture and monsters, of course.**

 **Thanks everyone for reviewing and reading!**

 **Shannan - I'M SO SO SO SO GLAD TO HEAR THAT. Arya and Fianna are just my favourite duo to write, there's so much potential with the two because they're both pretty brutal. I know! Ugh I can't WAIT to start writing Robb/Fianna again. It's been far too long, i was rereading old chapters and I didn't realise how much I missed them until now. Thanks so much for the continued support throughout this book!**

 **Guest - Such a flattering thing to hear, honestly thank you from the bottom of my heart. x**

 **Guest - I don't see where Fianna took credit, she never even said she killed all the Freys. Just that they were dead. Fianna is a character who has a flair for the dramatics, e.g. lots of blood and lots of death. Arya is more sneaky with her killings.**

 **reaganrose115 - Thank you! Still more to come! 3**

 **Kiaral - Awwww thank you sweetie! Don't worry, your grammar is excellent!**

 **willow441988 - Ahhhh thank you! He definitely did, it was a little more brutal than the show's version of revenge and more deserved! The reunion is soooo close, don't give up before then! x**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - Thanks love! Hope you enjoyed this chapter too 3**

 **n3rdybird - hahaha I laughed at this, I wonder did anyone think she would actually marry anyone else, and a FREY at that**

 **starevolution - I'd say the Lannisters are flipping their shit rn! Arya finally reunited with Rickon and the babies, but she still has Sansa and Jon to meet ;) that's so sweet of you to say, thank you! The thing is I tried to write so many times before and always gave up after like a month, but this book is so special to me because I've been writing for like 9/10 months? Which is insane for me. Thank you so so much!**

 **-Line - Thank you! I hope you enjoyed it! x**

 **florabest - I love your reaction! I'm so eager to write the Robb and Fianna reunion I think my fingers will practically break my keyboard when I write it aha. You were right about the Brotherhood helping Robb accept himself again! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

 **BigWilly526 - I had actually completely forgotten about the other prisoners, so thank you for reminding me about that! I always try to kind of rewrite silly things from the show so I'm glad you said that so I could include that too. Thanks!**

 **missEMBear - ONE NIGHT?! Oh my god! Well done! Thanks so much and I hope you like the reunion that's upcoming ;)**


	46. (XLV) The Perfect Sister

_Song: Survivor by 2WEI_

 _Sansa_

Sansa Stark took a deep breath as her horse began to approach the tall expanse of the Baelfort walls. Truly, she didn't understand how the Greyjoys ever managed to invade at all. Baelfort wasn't the largest house in the North by any means, but what it lacked in size it surely made up for in security. Even now, five guards were stationed at every side of the wall she was able to see.

Jon and herself knew that Fianna was further South, but they had hoped the remaining Baelfort inhabitants would be able to tell them where exactly she was so they could send a raven.

"Do you think Rickon is here?" Sansa pressed Jon, evere since he had revealed that their brother was very much alive and well, she had been more frantic than ever to find Fianna so they could be reunited.

"It's hard to guess," Jon said offhandedly, "he'd be unprotected if he was left here, but I can't imagine her taking Rickon and her babes to a battle."

Sansa shifted on her horse anxiously, holding her breath to calm herself as they began to approach the gates.

"Who goes there?" A voice called out, prompting Jon and Davos to share a look.

"Jon Snow, from Castle Black!" Davos revealed for him.

"Why does a man of the Night's Watch want to meet with the Queen?" He replied rudely, as defensive as the Bua men always were of their Lady.

"We've met before, I am her late husband's half brother!" Jon called back, beginning to become frustrated with the stubbornness of the guard. He had been there before, surely his name wasn't that forgettable?

"Who have you got there with ya?" The guard of the gate went on, looking suspiciously between Sansa and Davos.

"Ser Davos Seaworth," Davos informed him. Immediately thereafter, the guard was shoved to the side to reveal a new figure in his stead. The Onion Knight narrowed his eyes in recognition.

"Seaworth?" Bonifer Hasty cut into the discussion. "You're a Baratheon man, now. Why would we let you inside?"

"You were a Baratheon man, too, if I'm not mistaken, Hasty. Loyalties change. As yours clearly have as well," Davos was tempted to call Bonifer out for his betrayal to his liege lord by pledging for a traitor, but refrained. Completely aware that they were not inside yet.

"Fair enough," Bonifer shrugged uncaringly, gesturing to the guard once more to open up the gate for the three visitors.

Sansa nudged her horse to gallop inside quickly, the cold winds had turned her cheeks as red as her hair and she couldn't wait for a warm fire and a roof over her head.

Once inside, the trio dismounted their horses near the stables, the stable master instantly shuffling forward to take over.

"You're lucky," Bonifer clapped Jon on the back after successfully retreating down the ladder. "She only came back yesterday."

"She's here?" Jon whipped around in shock. Sansa was nervous all of a sudden, she had never had a proper conversation with Fianna before aside from a glance they shared. Jon had already met her and her children, he had a respect for her Sansa had yet to build.

"There's more than one 'she' here," a voice from above called out. Jon and Sansa's bodies froze entirely, their eyes meeting to share a look of confusion. Jon was the first to dare to look up, his mouth falling so far open in surprise, he almost looked like the Tully fish.

Sansa couldn't bring herself to look up yet.

"Arya," Jon whispered, causing Sansa's breath to hitch in confirmation. The youngest of the three beamed brightly as she slowly began to descend the ladder, as Bonifer had.

Sansa finally turned and met her sister's eyes, a number of emotions filling her - ranging from regret to pain to outright happiness. Her mind was so fuddled she couldn't hold her emotions back, tears began to well in her eyes.

Jon, frustrated with Arya's slow pace, reached up and grabbed Arya's hips the second she was low enough on the ladder for him to reach. He dragged his younger sister down and bundled her into his arms, his eyes and mouth still as wide as before. Arya hugged him back eagerly, her eyes falling closed as she was reminded of the last time they had seen each other so many years ago.

Jon lifted Arya's small frame up slightly as he hugged her, her feet beginning to dangle off the ground. Sansa stood awkwardly, her gaze fixed on Arya as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She looked a little different now, obviously a lot older, perhaps more muscular and stronger as well. Her facial features were more defined and Sansa couldn't believe she never noticed the striking resemblance Arya bore to her father.

"Where did you come from?" Jon muttered in amazement, finally letting go of her. He dropped down to one knee to see her at her level, ignoring the dampness of the ground beneath.

"You didn't think Fianna wiped out the Freys by herself, did you?" She spoke proudly, and so assuredly that Jon and Sansa instantly believed her, although Sansa felt a little uneasy. Was it possible that her scrawny, tiny little sister was now some kind of warrior?

Then again, the North was being ruled by a Bua queen. Perhaps anything was possible these days.

"I had a little help," Arya began, reaching for the smaller than average scabbard at her hip and drawing out an incredibly thin, short blade.

"You still have that?" Jon questioned, pleasantly surprised.

"You wouldn't believe the places I've been with it," Arya looked down with a smile, letting out a low chuckle. Jon was definitely confused, but pushed that aside as he wrapped his arms around her once more.

"I can't relieve you're alive," he whispered, eyes watering as Sansa's had. He could quite honestly say he hadn't been this happy in his entire life. One never knows how much they cherish their family until their family is scattered throughout the seven kingdoms and presumed dead.

Pulling away from her and standing upright after remembering Sansa was standing there, Jon coughed to clear his throat and looked back and forth between the two sisters. Arya finally looked upon her elder then, a neutral expression on her face that slightly frightened Sansa.

Admittedly, Sansa was jealous of both Jon and Arya at that moment. Despite the difference in their parentage, they had always been the closest of all the family. Sansa never bonded with any of her siblings as they had with each other, something she only began to care about as she got older. She had thought perhaps she was becoming close with Jon - but that chance was dashed now that his favourite was back.

"Isn't Tyrion Lannister a bit small for you?" Arya asked abruptly, eyeing Sansa carefully.

"Yes," she denied, "so it's a good thing that marriage is void."

It was silent for a moment, Jon stepping back and only watching as they seemed to be in a stare off. Neither one being the one to break first.

Eventually, her emotions overcame her and Sansa rushed forward, trampling through the snow and grabbing the smaller girl to hold her as Jon did. Past arguments be damned, they were sisters.

"Never thought I'd miss your smelly ginger hair," Arya mumbled against her shoulder, wrapping her arms around her in return.

"It's not smelly, you're smelling your own armpits," Sansa fired back, breathing a laugh. She held onto Arya tighter to prevent her from letting go and seeing the tears storming down her pale cheeks.

Jon, unable to help himself, cut over and wrapped his arms around both of them, the three of them holding each other tightly. Quite like wolves huddling for warmth, Sansa realised.

"Sansa!" A voice called from behind, and suddenly their group was invaded by a smaller, yet curlier headed boy, wrapping his arm around Arya's waist and hugging them from the other side.

Sansa, from how tall she was, had to bend down to clutch Rickon properly, taking in as much of him as she could.

"Well, isn't this one big Stark reunion?" Davos interjected after a few minutes of the family simply holding each other.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark hoped that the general direction he was headed in would eventually lead him to the Twins. He had no other method of finding his way other than Fianna's age old trick of the moss on the trees, the day was cloudy and the sun couldn't be seen.

He probably should have utilised his horse to trot, rather than gallop the entire way. But he couldn't help it, he was so beyond desperate to be reunited with his wife that he would have ran there, barefoot, if he had to.

After hours and hours of straight riding, Robb had to bring his horse to a stop to rest. His thighs were burning against the saddle, and his throat was screaming for a drink of water.

Dismounting his horse to the sound of lapping water in the distance, Robb tied its reigns to a nearby tree and set off towards the river, taking sips from his flask of water as he went along.

When he reached the stream, he dropped to his knees and cupped the ice cold water into his hands, splashing it onto his face to waken up more. After rubbing the water from his eyes, he lowered his hands to repeat the action but was ultimately stopped by the image of himself in the water.

It had been so long since Robb had seen his own reflection - in fact, he actively avoided it. There was no denying he looked different from his past self, after being shaved down his hair grew back slightly straighter and more brown than red. His face itself had been weathered by the years. He left Winterfell a teenage boy with a youthful face, now, his face looked as if it were permanently set in a frown, the scar on his cheek he received from the Freys still as present as ever.

But he was still Robb. And he could only hope that was enough.

A howl from the woods startled him, his head whipping around to locate its source. He suddenly panicked that a wolf had reached his horse, dropping the pool of water in his hands and starting to sprint back to where he left the stallion.

When he reached the small clearing, there was two tall animals now where there had only been one before. The other was almost the height of the horse, coated in a thick grey fur. The direwolf sniffed at the satchels tied to the horse, tracking the scent of its owner it appeared.

"Grey Wind?" Robb whispered, his eyes wide as he stared in disbelief. The direwolves head snapped around with a snarl in its throat. He stood in a defensive stance, and Robb worried that he had been wrong after all. The wolf certainly looked like his own, but perhaps he was imagining it. It was also much larger than Grey Wind grew to be the last time he seen him.

After a moment of growling, the direwolf took a step forward, his lip that lifted up in a snarl dropped down. The giant wolf dropped his head in respect, and Robb knew he had been right.

Silently, he shuffled toward the wolf with hesitation - in case it should suddenly snap at him. When the direwolf only remained in his position, Robb dropped forward and placed his hand on its back, brushing his fingers through his fur.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he pressed his cheek against its neck. Robb hadn't thought much of his pet since he came to grips with reality, mainly because he assumed the wolf was dead. But he was very clearly not. Perhaps he had been roaming the woods since the Red Wedding.

"Let's go home, boy," he murmured softly, letting go of Grey Wind to climb back onto his horse, watching in satisfaction when the direwolf stood next to the horse, waiting to follow his owner like he always had.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Deciding the council room was far too official to meet her _family_ in, Fianna asked a guard to tell them to meet her in her children's room after being told of their arrival. That's where the others had found her, settled on the floor in front of the fire and playing with the twins.

"Fianna," Jon spoke first, prompting her to stand up to hug him in greeting.

"It's good to see you," she murmured softly, watching as he bent down to ruffle Eddie's short hair and press a kiss to Aifric's forehead.

As she turned back to see the rest of the Stark children, her eyes trailed between Rickon and Arya before finally resting on Sansa.

The redhead had been watching Jon, wondering just how close he had become to Fianna in the visit he took to Baelfort previously.

"We haven't met formally yet," Fianna began, making her way toward the Stark girl until they stood toe-to-toe, as tall as each other. "I'm Fianna."

"Sansa," she replied suspiciously. The Northern queen may have saved her, but Sansa still wasn't sure of whether or not she could be trusted. The rumours that Fianna had been with Robb for the crown were always rife, and when she had been hailed Queen in the North after his death, it was enough to ruffle her feathers.

"You look like your mother," Fianna remarked sadly. Sansa's breathing picked up at the mention of Catelyn.

"You knew her?" She asked quietly.

"We were friends," Fianna smiled, "I mean she hated me at the start but after a while, we were really close. She was like a mother to me."

"Is it-" Sansa broke off, wondering how to phrase it. "Is it true that they slit her throat and threw her in the river?"

"Yeah..." Fianna sighed, looking down to her feet. "But I found her after I escaped, I gave her an appropriate send off."

Sansa nodded in gratitude, her mother didn't deserve to die, but she at least deserved to have her body taken care of after death.

"So," Fianna whirled around to face Jon, letting out a small laugh when she saw that Eddie had manoeuvred into his lap and was being tickled by his uncle. "What brings you to Baelfort? Unless you came to play with my child, of course."

"Right," Jon muttered, flustered. He set the babe back down to sit next to his twin, standing up to discuss important matters. "Well," he began, trailing off awkwardly.

"We want you to join us and take down the Boltons," Sansa finished for him.

Fianna and Arya looked at each other, smiling softly in amusement.

"Funny," Arya added to the discussion, "that's exactly what we were planning before you arrived."

"Really?" Jon pressed, looking between the girls in surprise.

"Really," Fianna revealed. "But I've been trying to plan the attack, because as it stands, we're currently outnumbered."

"I thought you had the fealty of most of the Northern houses?" Sansa asked, baffled by the estimation.

"I do, but the Bolton's have their own army, the Umbers, the Karstarks _and_ the Flints. A lot of the Bua soldiers have decided to stay at the Twins with Tiernan."

"Why?" Jon questioned confusedly.

"Because I gave the Twins to Tiernan, it's the new Bua stronghold. I'll help you win Winterfell back, but that's your home. Not mine. I'll be returning here afterward."

"Then send him a raven," Sansa interjected.

"He'll never be here in time!"

"We can wait," Jon added, always the calmer one. "Besides, the Wildlings have pledged to fight alongside us. With yours and the Wildling's army, that should make us even with the Bolton's."

"It's not enough to be even," Sansa huffed. "How many men are at the Twins?"

"Around two thousand with the newly loyal Freys," Fianna shrugged.

"Two thousand!" Sansa echoed. "We would be outnumbering them almost two to one!"

"It doesn't matter how many men we have, it matters how well we fight," Arya cut in.

"You're tangling with the Bolton's, Ramsay always has a trick up his sleeve. You can't just play around when our home is at stake," Sansa ranted on.

"Fine," Fianna replied frustratedly, holding her hands in the air. "For the gods sake, I will _send_ a raven to Tiernan."

Sansa stayed quiet, calming down at her words. Her lips lifting up slightly in success.

"What about the Tullys?" Arya suggested.

"Eh," Fianna grimaced. "They can't leave Riverrun undefended. I won't take advantage of their fealty."

"I thought we would have to convince you," Jon laughed shortly.

"Arya and I are rather on a revenge streak as of late," Fianna shrugged in amusement, raising her eyebrows at the girl in question.

"Does this mean we're going home?" Rickon spoke up, pushing Arya, Sansa and Jon to share a small smile with each other before turning back to him.

"Yeah, we are," Sansa murmured.

* * *

 _Robb_

"Grey Wind," Robb called to the direwolf, growing frustrated from the length of his journey. Surely, if he was travelling in the right direction, he would have reached the Twins by now. Or at least see it in the distance.

"Find Fianna," he commanded, hoping their bond was as strong as it once was, and the smell of his estranged wife as memorable to the direwolf.

Grey Wind's nose fell to the ground, sniffing instantly. As he began to move, Robb nudged his horse to follow after him. The wolf had clearly found something to smell, all of a sudden his ears had become stiff and his head shot up, beginning to run off in a certain direction.

Robb and his horse galloped close behind, his heart racing at the prospect of seeing her so soon. Perhaps if Grey Wind could smell her, the Twins was closer than he thought.

After a prolonged while of Robb following Grey Wind, finally, he heard the unmistakable sound of movement ahead. He whistled through his lips to call his wolf back, being careful that the large group ahead could have been anyone.

Robb directed his horse through the trees and off the path, the stampede of hooves grew louder and it was clear the small group he had thought he heard was in fact an army of people.

The former king stepped down from his horse and lead him by the reigns, shuffling forward with Grey Wind at his heels to suss out the group. He crouched down upon reaching the tree line, a flurry of armoured soldiers passing by on horseback.

Robb's eyes narrowed, searching desperately for a banner or for the symbol usually bore on their breast plate - but they were simply too fast for him to see.

Finally, he saw a banner being held high by a soldier towards the end of the vanguard. His body instantly flooding with adrenaline at seeing it.

Dropping the horses reigns, Robb ran out to approach them, instantly startling them enough for the soldiers towards the tail end to stop their horse and take out their swords.

"Who goes there?" One shouted, regarding upon him suspiciously.

"My name is Robb Stark, point me to where Fianna is immediately."

"That's _Queen_ Fianna to you, scoundrel," he spit in return with narrowed eyes, taking offence. The gesture surprised him, the last time Robb had been with Fianna his men were distrustful of her. Then again, these were Bua men, and were always protective and loyal of the Lord or Lady of Baelfort.

"Oi Marv," the man called to the other guard who had stopped. "This lad reckons he's Robb Stark. He's looking for his lady wife."

"Is he now?" ''Marv' beamed in amusement, raising his eyebrows mockingly. "She'll be at the front of the vanguard, mind you, her hairs a bit short now!"

"Aye," the first guard added, "and she's grown a cock between her legs and taken to calling herself a Lord instead of a Lady."

"What?" Robb hissed in confusion, prompting them to dissolve into laughter. As they snorted, Grey Wind approached Robb, leaving the shelter of the trees as well.

At the sight of the giant direwolf, their laughter stopped imminently. Now, it was their turns to be confused.

"By the gods," another voice came from behind the guards, someone who Robb did not recognise, but they had recognised him clearly. "That's Robb Stark, you fools!"

"Oh, leave it out Bryan," Marv rolled his eyes, "how would you even know? Suppose you seen him when you and the rest of the traitors were at the Red Wedding butchering us Northerners?"

"Yeah, actually," Bryan spit back angrily, "so I would know what he bloody looks like!"

Bickering aside, the trio led Robb, who had returned to his horse, to the top of the vanguard. They were forced to travel at an unrelenting pace to pass the rest of the soldiers, but within no time, they had reached the front - to meet the 'Bua' lord.

However, Robb doubted he would be seeing Fianna.

"Stop, my lord!" Bryan called out over the hammering of horses hooves.

Tiernan Bua whipped around angrily, eyes narrowed at the three men causing a ruckus. He shook his head in annoyance before pulling back on the horses rope, bringing him to a stop.

"What is the meaning of this? Do you have any idea how quickly we'll have to travel to get there on time?" He bellowed, face reddening from stress.

Robb came into view then, his eyes narrowed in confusion as his horse stepped toward Tiernan, who was now positively baffled as well.

"Who's this?" He asked, eying the strange armour he wore and the lack of a household symbol indented into his breast plate. Robb still wore the clothing the brotherhood had given him.

"I'm Robb," he greeted with a slight nod, "I take it you're Tiernan?"

Tiernan's head tilted as he looked him over, taking in every detail for a hint of his identity.

"If by Robb you mean _Stark,_ he's dead and gone, my friend."

"It's true, my lord," Bryan, the saviour cut in. "I recognise him."

Tiernan turned back with an expression of utter shock, which he tried to hide by a calm exterior.

"Well," he breathed, supposing that the man did look slightly like the children Fianna doted on back at Baelfort. "You'll want to come with us then, your grace."

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Northern Queen bundled her furs tighter around her shoulders, nestling her chin into her coat to stay warm. It had certainly gotten colder since she last ventured outside of Baelfort, if that was at all possible.

They were beginning the march toward Winterfell, ready for a meeting organised with Ramsay before they would battle. When she had informed the Northern lords of the plan, she received mixed reactions. Many were too tired to fight another battle, many were antsy about fighting alongside Wildlings, but most of them were excited at the prospect of enacting revenge on the Bolton's - finally.

Fianna, Sansa, Arya and Jon rode at the front of the vanguard as always. But when it would come to meeting with Ramsay - only they and the Northern lords would meet.

Sansa, who hadn't spoken a word to Fianna since their war meeting and hadn't even attempted to bond with her children, finally approached the girl on horseback until they rode side by side.

"They executed him, you know," Sansa informed her, "the man you sent to save me."

"Conor," Fianna told her, sadly. "He was an amazing man. I figured he died when he hadn't returned."

"He was executed but he still organised a plan for me to escape. He knew he was going to die."

"He was one of the most loyal people I had ever met."

"And what about you? Are _you_ loyal?" Sansa's tone dropped suspiciously.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Fianna lost her kind attitude, narrowing her eyes at her good sister.

"It was just a question. You say that you loved my brother but I see you're quite close with another of mine."

" _Love_ ," Fianna corrected. "I _love_ Robb. I always _have_ and I always _will_. And if you mean Rickon, I've practically raised him for nigh on three years now, of course I would have love for him, he is a brother to me."

"I wasn't talking about that brother," Sansa said with a snarky voice.

"Jon?" Fianna asked, before breaking into a fit of laughter. "Do I look like Cersei Lannister to you? You've spent too much time down South, girl. I see you, Arya, Rickon and Jon as my good-siblings. I married Robb, so legally you are. I wouldn't ever betray his memory like that, he would even laugh at the suggestion of it."

Sansa was silent, strangely embarrassed by her insinuations.

"So... you love Robb? Even after all of this time and the fact that he's..." Sansa trailed off. She had tried to avoid talking about her eldest brother since his death.

"Yes," Fianna replied without hesitation. "Robb is and always will be the one for me. To me, he's not dead. He lives on in his children and through us. Honestly, I don't think I could ever marry again. A love like that only happens to a special few, I suppose that's why we didn't get the time we should have gotten. The gods are cruel.

"But to answer your question, I'd lay down my life for Robb to continue his. And if that isn't love, then what is?"

Sansa smiled softly at her, the barrier between them broken. All she could do now was hope that she made it through the upcoming battle.

* * *

 **GUESS WHAT HAPPENS NEXT CHAPTER GUYS. ITS ITTTTT. ITS HAPPENINGGGG.**

 **There's so many reunions and interactions right now I feel like I'm writing bloody Infinity War. It's hard to give each character justice when there's so many main ones in a single chapter but I hope I did okay.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, it means the world x**

 **Guest - So am I! I hope I give everyone a worthy reunion! x**

 **Rosa Scarsz Cruz - my body and my soul is ready for this**

 **Guest - Sansa, even though I love her character development, is known to be quite a prickly character and i don't think she would fully trust** **Fianna as easily as Arya, Rickon and Jon did. I can't see her being chosen as queen to be honest even though her season 7 development makes her worthy in my opinion!**

 **reaganrose115 - no it's the NEXT one you can't wait for ;) I hope you liked this one and thanks for reviewing! x**

 **otherworlder81 - neither can I! I'm DYING to write the next chapter and some Robb/Fianna moments again, I've wrote so many reunions in this chapter and the previous ones but theirs is most important to me! Save the best for last right?**

 **starevolution1273 - ISOSKCKSJDNC I FEEL YOUR EXCITEMENT. I feel like this reunion is the longest built up one in any fanfic I've ever seen I hate myself but I also love how cruel I am muahahah. Thanks so much for always being so encouraging about my writing, especially when I'm feeling iffy about it you're always one of the people to make me feel inspired again! Thank you from the bottom of my heart!**

 **willow441988 - no more twiddling your thumbs then! ;) thanks for reviewing I hope you have a great day! x**

 **Shannan - you completely got that bang on right with Grey Wind! The Lannister problem at Riverrun is a tricky one to overcome now that Edmure is back, but I definitely want the battle of the bastards to come first which is actually the next chapter. I've kept them separated for long enough xD Thanks so much for reviewing as always x**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - your wish is my command ;)!**

 **florabest - Thank you so much! I completely agree with the push or pull vibe in stories, I like to build up to major events and I don't think banging them out every chapter would be helping anyone. I've built up Robb and Fianna's eventual reunion for like... 15 chapters or something? So I think I definitely had the build up to this one down ahah. Stannis is dead yes, the men that fought for him are presumedly dead like in the show, but with the houses remaining that pledged fealty to him I'll have to consider where their loyalty lies now seeing as that wasn't touched on in the show. Baelfort will remain under Fianna's command, it's her home and she is the Lord/Lady of it and has no intentions of moving to Winterfell. So I suppose that Baelfort is a new Stark/Bua stronghold. A little like how Cersei's home is Kings Landing but she also rules over Casterly Rock I suppose? Yes, Jon was resurrected and Davos is with us now so you'll see more of him soon! Thanks so much! I loved answering your questions! 3**

 **Lauren - well you don't have to wait longer! ;) x**


	47. (XLVI) Battle of the North

_Song: Wait by M83 (make sure it's playing at 4:07 when IT happens)_

 _Fianna_

The morning they had first reached the clearing was a cold one. Winter was truly in full force, the white raven from the citadel expected to arrive any day now.

Fianna Stark was on the front line of the small group, with Jon, Arya, Rickon and Sansa. Accompanying behind them, were the Northern Lords under her fealty. Rickon was forbidden from engaging in combat, but his elder siblings and guardian had allowed him to join to show Ramsay that the Starks were, once again, a united front. Here to retake their home.

Upon seeing the opposing group in the distance, Fianna held her hand out and they all brought their horses to a stop.

"Alright," she puffed out a breath of air, "lets all keep a cool head and not show him any sign of emotion. He has to think that we're confident with our decision to proceed with a battle. Ramsay's a manipulative little fucker."

When they nodded in agreement, she clicked her tongue and her horse set off again, but Jon, sensing Sansa's apprehension, lingered behind.

"You don't have to be here you know," her half-brother murmured to her, worried for her well-being. Sansa was the only one truly scared of the upcoming battle, while the other three were more determined than ever for bloodshed.

"No, I want to," she shook her head, taking a deep breath to steady herself and pushing forward once more.

The second Sansa had reached Fianna and Arya's side, mere feet away from the man who tormented her, Ramsay let out a wicked grin, his eyes focused solely on her. His gaze made her skin crawl.

"I wouldn't recommend looking at Sansa," Fianna voiced, her tone casual, and Sansa wondered how she remained so calm in the face of evil. "I'd hate to have to gouge your eyes out. It's a rather messy affair."

His smile faltered, corners of his lips twitching in anger but he pushed aside the comment to grin even wider.

"How could I not look at my beloved fiancée, I've missed her terribly." Sansa swallowed in disgust.

"Did you say eyes, Fianna?" Arya questioned aloud, her teeth gritting with anger. "Why don't we just take his entire face?"

"Isn't this just a lovely family reunion? Careful now, it's rather bad luck for all the Starks to be together." He raised his eyebrows, his smile having fallen to a smirk by now. "Dismount and kneel before me, and I'll let your past indiscretions aside. Sansa will be wed to me and be my lady. And _Fianna_ , you will surrender your army to me and proclaim that I am the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of North. I'll pardon the bastard for deserting the Night's Watch, I'll even pardon these treasonous Lords for betraying my house, but I'm afraid Lady Fianna will have to be imprisoned for her war crimes. She is a murderer, now, after all."

"Your head is so tightly packed with shit, it must be starting to affect your brain. You'd have to be insane to think we'd surrender," Fianna bit back. "I have the Dreadfort. I have the Twins. I have half the North at my back and the North has come for you. Why would I quit while I'm ahead?"

"You're leading your men into slaughter, there's no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel, all of you," he gestured with his hand towards the ground. "I am a man of mercy."

"Well, I am not," Arya cut in. "This isn't a surrender, this is a warning. Back down and give us Winterfell."

"You know," Jon began before Ramsay could answer her, "you're right. There's no need for a battle. Thousands of men don't need to die, only one of us. Let's end this the old way. You, against me."

Unsurprisingly, Ramsay chuckled smugly.

"I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you, you're the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don't know if I'll beat you, but I know that my army will beat yours-"

"Then fight me," Fianna hissed, causing all heads on both sides to snap towards her. "You and I have been fighting each other ever since the Red Wedding. It ends now, whichever one of us dies."

"Fianna, you've got children, don't do this," Sansa leaned over and whispered to her, shaking her head in horror.

"It would certainly be more of an equal fight - the Lady of Baelfort versus the Lord of Winterfell," he shrugged, looking upwards as he contemplated it, tapping his chin with his finger. "But now you've got my men riled for war. I've got six thousand men. You've got... what? Five?"

"I wonder will the Umbers still fight for you when they hear that the Bolton's left Greatjon in the prison cells of the Twins until he died, _years_ later," Fianna stared directly at Smalljon as she spoke, a man who had once placed the blame of the entire event on her.

"What?" He grunted in disbelief, looking back and forth between Ramsay and Fianna. "My father died at the Red Wedding, you foul, lying wench."

"Did he now?" She raised her brows mockingly. "Because when I liberated the prisoners from the Twins, we found Greatjons body. According to the others, he died a few months ago due to his ill health from being in the dungeons so long. Perhaps we would have gotten there sooner if we had the Umber men riding alongside us."

Smalljon looked absolutely sickened by the news, his eyes wide with disgust and hands shaking in anger. Except this time, he turned his head to the side to glare at his liege lord.

"Oh ho," Ramsay laughed, shaking his finger at Fianna. "She's a brilliant liar this one. No wonder she managed to convince Ike to fall for her."

"Who in seven hells is Ike?" Fianna rolled her eyes, tired of his stalling.

"Oh, did I say Ike?" He played stupid. "I meant Robb. Gosh, it's so confusing going back and forth between his two names."

Fianna and Jon glanced at each other in absolute confusion, wondering what the Bolton bastard was talking about.

"Oh! You still don't know?" He begged, holding back his chuckles. "Robb never did really die. In actual fact, he's been here the entire time. I've enjoyed playing with him." And just like that, the group erupted.

"Liar!" Arya roared in fury.

"Your lies won't work on us, Ramsay," Fianna sneered. But Sansa knew him better than all of the others combined. She knew there was a chance he wasn't lying. So, instead of accusing him of treachery, she decided to question him.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" She demanded.

"Tell me, Fianna," he turned towards the Northern Queen in answer, "did he always have that small birth mark on his back? It looks rather like a leaf, doesn't it?"

The sisters looked towards their good-sister, shock filling them when they saw her face had completely paled and she looked as if she were about to be violently sick. Jon instantly remembered the birthmark, an occasion where he and Theon would tease him for it during grooming coming to mind.

"Now-" he began again, satisfied with the reaction the revelation achieved.

"You're going to die for that," Arya cut him off, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Leave one wolf alive, and the sheep are never safe," Sansa chimed, beginning to turn her horse around to leave, "sleep well. It'll be your last."

"She's a fine woman, your sister," Ramsay continued after she disappeared from sight, "of course, you're all fine men and women. My dogs will be most delighted to meet you, I haven't fed them in seven days they're absolutely ravenous. We'll find out in the morning, then."

As Ramsay turned and left the meeting as Sansa had, his men following after, the remaining group were silent - reeling from the discussion.

"Do you think it's true? Does he have Robb?" Fianna whispered quietly, looking distraught by the idea, and torn between believing it or passing it off as foul play.

"You said you saw him die, Fianna," Jon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion.

"I thought I did. But I was dragged away after he fell to the ground. I know for sure Catelyn is dead, but I never saw Robb's body after..."

"If he's alive," Lyanna Mormont interjected for the first time since arrival, "he'll be coming home with us. Count on that, your grace."

* * *

Morning light had reached the camp, and the day that would decide the fate of the North had came upon them.

There was a few moments to spare while everyone was preparing their horses and refastening their armour - but the entire clearing was silent. Nobody knew what to expect of the battle, many had doubts in their heads, the only ones who were sure they would win was Rickon and Arya - coincidentally, the youngest of the group.

Fianna let out a small sigh as she fastened her hair back in her signature braid, tying it tighter than ever to prevent it from falling. She looked upon the people she had grown to love as siblings with a sadness in her heart. Realistically, even if they won, there would be a major loss on their side. People she had known for years would die. So with that thought in mind, she stepped forward and hugged Rickon, pressing her cheek against the top of his curly head.

He appeared confused at first, but ultimately wrapped his arms around her in return.

"I love you, little man," she spoke quietly, squeezing him tighter. "If something should happen, I know you'll take care of your niece and nephew, won't you?"

"Yes, of course, Fianna," he agreed enthusiastically. Fianna turned her head and saw that Arya, Jon and Sansa were watching them quietly. Smiling softly, she lifted one arm from Rickon and beckoned them over to join.

Jon, surprisingly, was the first to move and wrapped his arms around the two collectively. Arya moved next, sliding into the group hug. Sansa hung back awkwardly, feeling out of place and unwanted.

"Come on," Jon called to her in amusement.

"You're not too posh to hug your family, are you?" Arya teased, breaking Sansa's revere and prompting her to join in the hug as well.

"I know you all may not see me as your sister," Fianna murmured against Rickon's head, "but I see you as my family. I would die for all of you."

"Shut up, Fianna," Arya cut her off, Fianna's brows furrowing in offence before the smaller girl continued, "you're our family too."

They broke apart after a few moments, feeling slightly better after that reassurance.

"You should talk to them," Arya urged her, nodding towards the rest of the massive vanguard. Fianna agreed, letting out a small sigh nervously as she mounted her horse and directed the stallion towards the army.

"Men and woman of the North," she bellowed loudly, catching everyone in the near vicinity's attention, "after the Red Wedding, I swore to you all that one day we would have our revenge on the Bolton's. Together, we took down the Dreadfort. We butchered the Freys as they had done to us. But we are not finished. Not while Ramsay Bolton rests on the seat of Winterfell." Fianna whipped the longsword from the sheath at her hip, holding Wolfsbane high in the air. "Lets go kill that scumbag! For Winterfell!" Her words were encouraging, and soon enough everyone, too, was shouting 'for Winterfell!'. The second she had finished her shouts, Fianna turned her horse in the correct direction and began to hurtle forward, prompting the rest of the army to follow.

* * *

The vanguard sat quietly, speechless, as they could do nothing but watch the bodies burning. There was a great distance between the Bolton's and the Starks, but right in the centre of that clearing held a number of X-shaped crosses, flayed men burning on them. It was exactly mimicking the Bolton sigil.

Bile rose up through Fianna's throat, and she pushed away the fear that Ramsay hadn't lied and Robb was one of the people burning. The smell of burning hair and flesh through the air was revolting, but they were only the first victims to perish in this field today.

She could easily make out Ramsay's figure on the opposing side - standing in the middle of his front line. Fianna could practically see the smirk from as far back as she was. Her eyes scraped along the array of banners showcased by his army, and after seeing the absence of a sigil bearing a chained giant on a red background - this time, she was the one smirking. The Umbers didn't show, now their armies were almost equal in numbers.

"Who's going to make the first move?" Arya murmured, watching them like a hawk and ready to charge the second one person stepped out of line.

They all stared as a man approached Ramsay from behind, dragging along something they were unable to see yet. Everyone tensed as Ramsay boldly stepped toward the nearest burning cross, now holding the thing the man had been dragging. He slowly raised the object into the air, revealing, as clear as day, a Stark banner. Likely the one that hung on the walls of Winterfell years before. He reached up and draped the banner over the burning 'X', stepping back into line after he had done it.

Jon's heart dropped in his chest, Fianna's grip on the reigns of her horse tightened and Arya's expression turned stony. It was clear what message Ramsay was showing them, he was trying to say that this burning body in particular was Robb.

"Enough waiting, we're not cowards," Fianna shouted towards Davos, stiffening up her posture.

"Aye!" Tormund yelled in agreement. Fianna hadn't had much time to properly converse with the red headed wildling - but Jon trusted him, and that was enough for her.

"Prepare to charge!" Davos commanded, causing a chain reaction to take place as each and every soldier sprung up, their heel lifted up and ready to nudge their horse into riding.

Simultaneously, the Bolton men nocked an arrow against their bow and angled it into the air, preparing to let loose upon command

The unmistakeable sound of the bow string springing could be heard, signalling an incoming flux of arrows towards them.

"Go!" Jon bellowed, which was all it took for the infantry soldiers in the Stark army to fly forward, sailing straight towards the enemy, with Fianna, Jon, Arya, and Tormund at the forefront.

Fianna's heart hammered in her chest, almost as loud as the hooves of their horses slamming against the ground.

Another round of arrows came soaring towards them, and a few hit their mark - stabbing into either soldiers or their horses, or both. The Boltons began to charge then, too, it would only be a short matter of time before the groups would collide head on.

"For Winterfell!" Arya screamed, raising her tiny sword high.

"For Robb and Catelyn!" Fianna added in a shout.

The second the two sides collided, multiple deaths had occurred within that second - horses and soldiers alike, the majority of the front line tumbled to the ground.

Fianna had ducked down to avoid an incoming spear that was aiming for her head, drawing her sword up and out to the side until it completely tore through the same man as he passed by her.

Jon had already lost his horse, which took the brunt of the impact and fell to the ground instantaneously. He rose up from the ground, ignoring the newfound pain in his leg and drew Longclaw.

Fianna could barely afford to think, all she could do was swing her sword and aim for the ones wearing the enemy armour. She couldn't risk looking for Jon or Arya at this time, their lives were in their own hands now.

Her horse continued to gallop forward, but it wasn't long until she grew frustrated. Many soldiers had lost their horses by how, fighting horseback was never something she preferred. Using her carefully practised sense of balance, Fianna brought her feet up to the saddle and slowly began to lift up until she was crouching. The second she saw a Bolton soldier in front, Fianna used her footing to propel herself from her horse and drive her sword through the man's chest. Still, she hit the ground with a hard smack, and had it not been for the adrenaline flooding her veins she would have felt the full force of what was sure to be bruises.

Ignoring the cries of pain emanating from all around her, she focused on swinging her sword and fending off oncoming attackers. Fianna could barely see anyone she knew, the two sides had begun to mesh together until all that could be seen was a flurry of silver armour.

"A bloody woman? The North has gone _mad_ ," she heard from ahead, and turned forward to see a Karstark man towering over a female soldier, a sword angled at her face.

Fianna began to sprint towards them, the woman had clearly been overpowered and lacked any weapon to defend herself. She pumped her arms and legs harder to get there faster, just as the soldier had lifted his sword into the air.

Using the mud to her advantage, Fianna dropped to her knees when she was close enough and slid forward, her sword slicing through the knees of the man until he fell to the ground, incapacitated and likely unable to walk again.

The woman cried out in shock, before reacting quickly and reaching for his sword from his newly loosened grip, driving it through his chest.

The battle felt as if it had been going for hours, but in reality it had only been a couple of minutes. Periodically, arrows would flood the skies from the Bolton side and rain down on those beneath, but they were only killing people on both sides. It was hard to tell which side was winning, the only thing that Fianna was sure of was that the number of deaths would probably succeed the number of survivors. The bodies were beginning to pile up into large mounds, which now had to be climbed to reach the other side.

The archers on the Stark side had resigned their bows and ran to join the infantry soldiers to fight as well. Unfortunately, this had prompted the Boltons to copy their actions - and the number of archers on the Boltons side far outsized the number on theirs.

Perhaps it was the fact that the Bolton army consisted of soldiers trained for years, and a lot of Fianna's had been servants previously - grasping the chance to fight for their country when offered to them.

She heard a man shout from behind her, a familiar voice. Fianna whipped around and saw that Jon had been dragged to the ground by two Bolton men, likely to be killed any second.

Fianna ran toward the group, ready to intervene and save him, but the distraction of Jon's life on the line had lowered her guard. She hadn't noticed the Bolton guard that followed after her, nor did she know about the bow directed at her until it was too late.

Tormund had reached Jon before Fianna had, helping him to his feet and throwing off his attackers. Realising he was alright, Fianna turned back around with a sigh of relief to meet the whirl of an arrow through the air, burying itself into her stomach.

The brunette let out a scream of pain, collapsing to the ground with a cry as blood began to soak through her undershirt.

Her eyes stared down at the wound, her hands slipping up to try and find an easy fix for her injury. But it was useless, tearing the arrow from her body would cause further damage because of its shapely head.

Never in her life had she felt so scared, tears flooded down her cheeks from both pain and fear. Thoughts of her children growing up parentless slid into her mind. As bad of a time it was, Fianna realised how foolish she had been to be so careless with her life when they _needed_ her. She, more than anyone, knew the pain of growing up without a mother.

The Bolton guards began to run away from the group as the army of archers started to circle around them like a meander in a river, but Fianna couldn't get up, her head falling back to the ground to stare up at the sky. Her mind drifted to the thought of her father, wondering if he would be proud when they meet again. Or if Robb would still love her after seeing her actions from the heavens.

But she would have to wait to find out.

The face of Arya Stark appeared above her vision, face clouded with worry and horror.

"Come on, girl," she demanded, moving her hands down to the arrow and breaking off the end of it. "You're not going to die from a piece of wood."

"It hurts so bad, Arya," Fianna wailed like a child, body shaking as the younger girl tended to the wound.

"It's going to get a lot worse," Arya warned her. "But I'm not going to let you die here."

With that, she turned the Queen onto her side and without any semblance of a warning, Arya reached for the shaft and began to twist it, causing Fianna to scream at the top of her lungs - the sound echoing across the clearing.

"It's not stuck in your bone, that's good!" Arya informed her, as if it were any consolation. Reaching for the small dagger by her hip, Arya unveiled it and bent down until the tip was on the skin above the entry point. "This is going to hurt, Fianna."

"Do it," she grunted in reply, squeezing her eyes shut as Arya immediately dug the blade into her skin and created a slit. The pain was white hot and searing, Fianna's eyes nearly rolled back in her head from the slit alone. She ground her teeth so harshly together it was sure to have chipped at least one tooth, but it was all she could do to keep the screams in.

When Arya had enough of a lee way to manoeuvre, she tugged the arrow out, causing a roar of agony from the queen. Blood immediately followed the wound, flooding her stomach and running along her sides to the ground.

"Hang in there," Arya tried to comfort her as she began to wrap the wound with cloth as tightly as possibly. Instantly, it was soaked blood.

Arya tried to keep level headed, but she was beginning to lose herself, fingers shaking as she applied another cloth on top and tied it tightly on her side.

"Just patch me up," Fianna exhaled sharply, her vision blurred from the pain, "get me back in this."

The Baelfort native had been right after all, the space around them was beginning to close in, as if everyone around had been pushed inwards.

Her eyebrows knit together in confusion, hisses of pain falling from her lips as Arya reached for her hands and hauled her to her feet. Instantly, she stumbled, but Arya was quick to wrap the elder girl's arm around her shoulders for support.

"What's going on?" She murmured, feeling fainter and fainter as people were now pressed against her.

"Move back! She's hurt!" Arya snapped at them, but stopped arguing upon realising there was no where for them to move back to.

Fianna peered through a gap in the crowd of heads to see an array of Bolton shields surrounding them. It didn't take her long to realise what was happening. They were being entrapped.

Arya tried relentlessly to push back against the increasingly frenzied crowd, but it was no use. Without a doubt, she was the smallest person there on the field. While Fianna was squashed against shoulders, Arya had stomachs in her face.

Desperately, the two girls clung to each other. The younger of the two desperately wanted to fight back, but if she left Fianna - the queen would collapse instantly and get trampled upon.

Everyone around them gasped for air, their panicking only making it harder to catch their breath. Fianna pushed aside the pain of her stomach to clutch Arya to her front, her eyes scanning the crowd desperately for a solution, or for Jon.

It was useless. The battle had been lost.

Fianna was sure she was beginning to hallucinate from lack of oxygen when she thought she heard a howl come from the distance. Tiredly, in her weakened state, she turned her head to the side to look for its source. Stupidly, she convinced herself it was Chroí calling to her from the heavens, symbolising her time to come.

She suddenly felt more alert when the sound became closer, with what sounded like a stampede of hooves accompanying it.

"Lift me," she demanded the tall man next to her, who was ready to reject her command until he saw who it was that was asking. Immediately, he placed his hands on her hips and lifted her up into the air to improve her vision, resting her bottom on his shoulder.

Fianna squinted in the distance, people were coming towards them on horseback, her ears hadn't failed her. Terrifyingly, she thought that perhaps it was the Umbers. Perhaps she hadn't gotten through to Smalljon at all, and he was simply waiting to slaughter them all when Ramsay had the upper hand.

An eruption of cheers rang out from her own men, causing her to blink rapidly in confusion, trying to focus her blurred sight on the banners. However, as they neared closer she soon saw it.

A red paw print on a white background.

Tiernan was here to save them.

Fianna lifted her shaky hand into the air to cheer along with everyone else, revelling in the miracle of his timing. She had sent word to her cousin or the impending battle, but hadn't expected him to arrive at all from the time it would take to ride to Winterfell. But alas, Tiernan was nothing if he wasn't loyal.

She watched in absolute amazement as the magnitude of Tiernan's army, in full force as it had been untouched by the Boltons, cut through the ones caging them in like a knife through butter. Immediately, the caged crowd flooded outward, desperate to catch their breath and escape the pressurised environment.

The man settled Fianna down once more, but her legs had buckled beneath her, causing her to drop to her knees once more. Arya attempted to bring her up again, but it was pointless, she was simply too weak to stand. Blood had soaked through the cloth once more and began to drip down her leg.

"Fianna, please," Arya begged her, tears swarming her vision as she watched her good-sister's condition deteriorate.

* * *

 _Robb_

The second the human barricade had been broken, Robb instantly set off toward finding his family. He navigated his horse through the remaining people, eyes scanning for a familiar face.

It wasn't long until he found one.

"Jon!" He yelled to capture the black haired man's attention. The baseborn brother he had loved so dearly turned instantly in confusion, almost collapsing from fright at the sight of his brother atop a horse nearby him.

"Robb?" He mouthed, barely able to voice the word. He looked as if he had seen a ghost, and technically - he had.

Robb instantly dismounted and hurtled forward towards him, letting out a grunt when their chests met, hard. The expression on Jon's face would have been amusing, had it not been for the seriousness of the moment.

"You're alive?" Jon managed to say, gripping his shoulders tightly and scanning his eyes over Robb's face.

"And you're not in black," he tried to joke, but his smile instantly crumpled as he brought his brother back into his arms for another hug.

"The bastards escaping!" A voice shouted from beside them, snapping them from their revere to see, sure enough, Ramsay was retreating like a rat back to Winterfell.

Jon sneered in anger, as did Robb. He took his brother by the shoulder and turned him towards his waiting horse.

"Take my horse, don't let him escape," Robb pleaded, he was willing to put his vengeance in Jon's hands. Jon nodded quickly and jetted off to retrieve the horse to ride for Winterfell. Their reunion could wait, they both knew.

The redhead turned back to the remaining men standing, many of which had followed Jon's lead towards the entrance to Winterfell. As much as his blood burned for vengeance against the Bolton boy, his heart had won him over, and he longed to see his wife so much more than he wanted to kill Ramsay.

As the standing survivors ran out, it became clearer who was left. Robb scanned the faces of all those who were on the ground, injured or dead, saying a silent prayer his fiery wife wasn't among them.

Grey Wind was doing the rounds, returning to his master's side after being whistled at. His teeth were coated in blood, his hair standing on his neck from the intensity.

"Go find her," Robb commanded, watching as the large direwolf shot off in a direction, which he followed after.

Across the field, Arya was trying to tend to Fianna's wound again, but Fianna wasn't having it.

"Go," she commanded her, "go and help Jon. I'll be _fine_."

Arya looked as if she wanted to deny her, but one stern look from the elder girl told her it wasn't up for discussion.

"I'm going to get help as well," she spoke desperately, nodding her head before sprinting off towards the great expanse of stone walls.

Arya followed after the crowd, praying beyond hope that when she returned, Fianna would still be there.

Deciding if she was going to die, it wouldn't be laying down on a field, Fianna used be last reserve of her strength to stand up. Almost immediately, she doubled over from the pain and fell back down to sit on the stained grass. Her eyes trailed around the landscape. The grass, that had once been green, was now either brown or red from mud or blood.

More bodies than she had ever seen amassed the grounds, the bloodshed was sure to leave an imprint on the soul of the place. Perhaps Winterfell would soon become the new Harrenhal.

Her distracted gaze was cut off by a large mass of a figure appearing beside her. Tiredly, her head lolled to the side, a small smile on her lips when she saw who it was nudging her shoulder with his snout.

"Hi, boy," she greeted quietly, running her fingers along his fur. Fianna placed her hand on his back and stood up, albeit, shakily. The direwolf was almost at her height, therefore she could use him to stand upright.

As her eyes moved around again, they stopped upon noticing a figure standing a few feet away, staring straight at her. Defensively, she faced them, aware it could have been a surviving Bolton guard. But after a few seconds, she cursed herself for ever thinking that, and not recognising _him_.

His hair was slightly darker, less curled than she remembered but still a mess atop his head. His face was just the same, save for the lack of a beard or stubble and a deep scar that was etched into his cheek. His eyes were soft as he regarded upon her, and Fianna thought for sure her heart would burst inside her chest.

She was afraid at first to approach him, after all, he could have been sent by the gods to take her through to her death. But that didn't stop her feet from moving forward. Her newfound energy enabled her to let go of Grey Wind.

When she began to move, he did too. Mimicking her steps, getting faster upon realising that she wasn't able to run to him in such poor condition.

Every second he made his way toward her felt as if it were taking them further apart. The seconds felt like they lasted forever, purposefully keeping them separated just for that much longer.

Eventually, he grew closer. And stopped completely when he was in front of her. They appeared frightened to the eye, looking at each other nervously as if they were betrothed and meeting for the first time. But it wasn't their first time meeting. They were soulmates, rekindling.

It didn't take Fianna long to break, whether he was an apparition or not, she wanted to feel him. So she stumbled forward tiredly and practically fell into his arms. Immediately, he wrapped her up, holding her against his chest as if she was something delicate and easily breakable. His hands roamed her back and hair, not expecting to be able to touch her at all after his spell of hallucinations a while back.

Robb couldn't help but pull back, he had to see her face, tell her he loved her while he still could, now. Gently, he tugged her back from his chest to expose her bloodied, tear-stained and dirt covered face. Fianna clutched her fingers onto the crevices of his armour, just in case anyone were to try and take him away again.

Robb cupped her cheeks gently, eyes searching back and forth between hers.

"I love you," he told her, deciding then and there to tell her that every day for the rest of her life, if she would have him again. She broke down into sobs at his words, tears accumulating under her eyes and words sounding muffled as she spoke them.

"I love you. I love you so much."

* * *

 **AND THERE WE HAVE IT.**

 **Don't hate me yet, Fianna isn't going to die! I just didn't find it realistic that every battle she's been in so far in this book she escaped unscathed, given how brutal this one was she was going to hit eventually. Before anyone comments on the arrow removal, I KNOW you're not supposed to remove them. But I done some research into how arrows were handled in the past, and they were in fact taken out much like Arya did.**

 **I hope I did their reunion justice, they've been separated for 20 chapters now and there was a lot of pressure to deliver this one because of that. This chapter is already over 6000 words, so Ramsay's demise and Fianna and Robb catching up will be in the next chapter.**

 **I just want to say really quickly that I am so so so grateful for everyone who read up to this point, particularly those who constantly encourage me and inspire me to write the next chapter. For those that were around when the Red Wedding came out, you'll remember I was extremely apprehensive about the split and worried if people would stop reading the book, some people did, but a lot of people continued on supporting me to get to this point. I can't thank everyone enough, honestly. I've been writing this book now for 9 months and if it hadn't been for those reading I would surely have given up before now.**

 **Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.**

 **willow441988 - there's so much going on in this chapter haha I had to just sit down and focus on it for hours on end. I hope you enjoyed it! 3**

 **Guest - 'Self-serving nepotism' honestly? Do you ever take a day off? Tiernan was the Lord of Baelfort for a few years, it makes sense for him to take over the Twins when he has the experience. You may not have a name distinguishing you from the other reviewers but I know every time when it's you commenting. You clearly do not like the main character at all, you're completely entitled to that opinion but why do you read the book at all if it bothers you?**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thanks so much! I hope you liked this one too and it lived up to your expectations! x**

 **starevolution1273 - I REALLLLLLY hope it lived up to your expectations! I put so much pressure on myself to make it perfect! If it turns out to be the best chapter as you say then I will just DIE out of happiness. But of course, Robb has to reunite with his little babies too ;) and for losing a lover, I am so sorry to hear that... I hope you find a little comfort in this book, your reviews are my favourite to read all the time and I adore your reactions. Thank you so much, as always x**

 **otherworlder81 - Do you forgive me now for leaving you hanging haha?**

 **Shannan - Robb is gonna come for Ramsay in the next chapter before he dies, something I can't wait to write! Thanks for pointing out the typo as well! Thank you as always and I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the reunion x**

 **purple-pygmy-puff16 - It's over 6000 words, love me please! haha**

 **reaganrose115 - Thank you! I hope you like it and have a nice day! x**

 **Guest- I feel like Oprah rn just being like "YOU GET A REUNION, AND YOU GET A REUNION, AND YOUUUUUU GET A REUNION". I hope it lived up to your expectations! Thanks for reviewing! x**


	48. (XLVII) Reunification

_Song: Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic_

 _Fianna_

The second she realised that she was asleep, a sudden rush of sadness had encompassed her enough to never want to open her eyes again. Of course, it would had to have been a dream. Perhaps a hallucination because of the wound inflicted upon her. Robb was dead, and Ramsay's previous taunts had only gotten into her mind enough during her deteriorating state to make her think he wasn't, and that was there with her.

Fianna Stark didn't want to open her eyes and face reality again, as she slipped back into consciousness, the wound was relentlessly paining her to what seemed like no end. But the pain in her heart was so much more proficient. Eventually, she had worked up the courage to open her eyes and face her reality, for her children and to know if they had won the battle more than anything else.

When she opened them, the brightness caused her eyes to flutter closed again, but she grew accustomed to the light after a few seconds and was able to waken herself fully. Her gaze trailed around the room as her vision cleared, until her eyes met the soft brown ones of her good-sister next to her, looking equal parts worried and relieved for the woman in the bed.

"Arya," she managed to say, her voice coming out as a croak. The brunette beamed brilliantly, sitting up in her seat and grasping her hand gently.

"It's about damn time you woke up, I've missed out on torturing Ramsay because I've had to watch over you," she joked, but it was clear the girl was more concerned for Fianna's well being.

"So we won?" Fianna dared to ask, sighing in relief when she nodded her head. Her satisfaction didn't last long however, and soon a sadness overcame her expression again, which Arya was quick to pick up on.

"He's just gone to check on something with Jon, he'll be back any minute," her words confused the young Queen, who tilted her head to the side to narrow her eyes.

"What are you talking about?" She pressed, wondering if she was still asleep. Arya looked perplexed then by Fianna's confusion, opening her mouth to answer but was ultimately cut off by the sound of the door opening. The girls heads snapped forward to see the new arrival.

Fianna whimpered in fright, gripping Arya's hand with a death-like vice. Their gazes were fixed on each other, and when Robb realised she had woken up he smiled the widest grin either of them had ever seen him wear.

"You're awake," he breathed, rushing to her side and dropping down to a knee on the opposite side of the bed to Arya.

"Robb?" Fianna managed to say, taking in every inch of him with her eyes. "Am I dead?" She asked suddenly, horrified at the prospect.

"No, and neither am I," he soothed, reaching for her free hand to slip his fingers through hers. When she saw that she could feel his hand in her own, the realisation that it hadn't been a dream dawned her. Perhaps she had passed out from the blood loss soon after they were reacquainted, but one thing was for sure - he was here.

Robb had come back to her.

Completely overwhelmed by emotion, Fianna released Arya to reach up and cup his cheek. She had to sit up to reach, blissfully ignoring the painful protests of her stitches.

"You came back to me," she whispered, a sob building in her throat ready to release at any point. Robb pressed his forehead against hers delicately, placing his hand on top of hers.

Sensing they were long overdue a moment of peace, Arya quietly slipped out of the room - which was actually Robb's old chambers, unable to wipe the smile from her face as she returned to her own.

"It's treason to abandon your Queen, is it not?" He asked, mimicking the phrase they had so often quoted to each other. She let out a laugh at his words, tears spilling over her eyes that she could see were forming in his own as well.

"Lay with me," she commanded quietly, letting go of him to scoot over on the bed, hissing in pain as she did so. Robb carefully slipped into the bed next to her, weary of causing the slightest disruption to her wound. When he had finally nestled in beside her, he slipped his arm around her shoulders and allowed her to rest against his side.

"I thought I watched you die," she admitted quietly, making shapes on his chest with her pointed finger. "It changed me, Robb. I'm scared you may not like the woman I have become."

"And I thought I had killed you," he responded, causing her to tilt her head up to look at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged it off, telling her he would explain that further later on. "Fianna, the woman you have become is a fierce queen with the loyalty of the North and the Riverlands behind her. You did that on your own, without needing to marry a King or be born into a worthy family. How could I be anything less than proud of you?"

His words sounded meaningful, and they couldn't have meant more to her from any other person than him. Deciding she didn't have an answer to that, she instead settled for nuzzling her cheek against his chest. It was silent again for a few moments until Robb found the bravery to ask something that had been on his mind.

"Was it a boy or girl?" He questioned sheepishly, grimacing when she looked up to him so he could elaborate. "The babe that we lost..."

Fianna's eyes widened suddenly, she had been so caught up with his return that she hadn't even thought to tell him. Her heart began to race with excitement as she smiled brilliantly, looking forward to seeing his reaction to her words.

"What makes you think I lost the _babes_?" She teased, raising her eyebrows at him. Fianna was sure she would remember Robb's gobsmacked expression for the rest of her life.

"Twins..? B-but, they aren't here, I just assumed..." his eyes were widened, almost comically so, and his lips had parted as he stumbled over his words. Fianna cupped her hand over his mouth to stop his babbling, letting out a small chuckle.

"Eddie and Aifric are back at Baelfort, safe. With my grandfather..." she trailed off at the mention of him, wondering how Robb would react to the news of her lineage.

She hadn't told anyone of her grandmother's identity out of fear of persecution. Fianna hadn't even told her dear cousin. But she wasn't able to keep such a reveal from Robb, and could only pray to the Gods that he wouldn't resent her for it. After all, the Targaryens were the ones who stripped the Starks from their crown in the first place, and had murdered Robb's uncle and grandfather. She would have to tell him, but not yet.

"A boy and a girl," he murmured, his eyes staring off into the distance with a small smile. Fianna could hear his heart pounding in his chest below her cheek. "Eddie? As in-...?"

"Eddard, yes," she confirmed, revelling in the way he looked positively touched by that.

"What are they like? I want to know everything," he demanded, sitting more alert on the bed, and her heart warmed at the sight.

"Well," she sniffed, holding back tears from forming again, "both of them look like you more than me. They have your curly, red hair, but they have my eyes and nose. Aifric is a true Bua girl, she's the loudest and Eddie is more quiet. Their first word was 'mama'," she beamed in memory, but stopped when she noticed that Robb's smile had dimmed at that. "And they can walk now. They're going to be a handful when they're older."

"I missed out on all of their first memories..." he whispered, looking as if he may cry from the thought of it. Fianna's chest clenched, reaching for the hand he had rested on his stomach and squeezing it in reassurance. She knew it had to have been hard for him, Robb couldn't wait to meet the babes when they were still inside of her, and now he had lost so much precious time with them.

"You haven't missed much," she promised, "you got to escape the period where Eddie would piss into the air when you tried to change him."

Her words amused him, but he couldn't bring himself to laugh.

"You will meet our children soon," she squeezed his hand again, and he forced a smile for her sake. Deciding to lighten the mood, she dropped his fingers and smacked him on the arm. "By the Gods, woman! What was that for?" He protested, looking down at her in shock.

"I told you I would kill you for giving me _two_ little Robb Starks!"

At this, his smile was genuine. He would have tickled her into apologising, but she was also in a delicate state and he didn't want to hurt her with his fingers.

They spent the next few hours talking, about everything from babies, to the Brotherhood and the time he had hallucinated about her. Later, while relaying a story about Thoros of Myr, he noticed she was strangely quiet. Robb looked down and saw that his wife was fast asleep in his arms, snoozing off her exhaustion.

He smiled at the sight, once so sure he would never have seen it again. Delicately, he lifted the hand that was placed on her back and began to gently stroke her hair, revelling in the feeling of her body against his.

* * *

 _Robb_

A quiet knock at the door sounded out, and immediately opened after to reveal the red hair of his sister on the other side.

When Sansa saw that Fianna was asleep, she dropped her voice to a whisper.

"Sorry, to interrupt," he waved off her apology, looking to her for an explanation of her entrance, "but, it's time."

Robb nodded his head, slowly and carefully he slipped himself out from underneath his wife, propping a pillow in his place to stop her from waking up. With a resolute sigh, he followed after Sansa.

The former King hadn't seen his captor since Ramsay had left for Winterfell, and he was not looking forward to it. By the time he had reached his home from the battlefield, yelling for a maester with an unconscious Fianna in his arms, Jon was in the middle of lugging off Ramsay. Sansa, he had been told, had a plan to exact revenge upon him in a way that was brutal enough to ensure justice. After hearing his story during their reconciliation, and offering hers in return, the siblings agreed that they would revel in Ramsay's death together.

"How is she?" Sansa asked quietly as he shut the door after him, nodding to a guard down the hall to stand at her door for her protection.

"She is better, but still bed-ridden," Robb admitted, rubbing his hand down his face and offering his elbow for his sister to hold. When Sansa didn't reply, he looked to her with a small smirk. "You don't like her much, do you?"

"Of course I do," Sansa scoffed with a shake of her head. But after seeing the look of disbelief Robb threw her, she gave in. "Alright, sometimes I wonder about her. You didn't hear the gossip that I did at King's Landing, many had told me that she had bewitched you so you would give her a crown. And after the Red Wedding when she was hailed Queen... I formed an ill opinion of her long ago. And it's hard to move past it. I don't want her to think that because she fought in the battle and is Queen that she owns Winterfell now like she owns the Twins. Winterfell belongs to the Starks."

Robb stayed silent, processing her words fully before he could form a reply as they carefully stepped down the stairs to the empty courtyard.

"I know you're distrustful, Sansa. And how could you not be, after everything you've been through? But I wish you would trust my judgement on this, and if not mine, the judgement of Arya and Jon. She is the mother of my children, your niece and nephew."

"I will try," Sansa murmured, cheeks as red as her hair from embarrassment, feeling like a child again being told off by her elder brother.

Eventually, they arrived at the closed entrance to the shelter where the hounds were caged. Everything was prepared, Ramsay was strapped down in a chair - still passed out from his earlier altercation with Jon. Robb let out a shaky exhale at the sight, pushing past his own inner fear and trying not to feel like more of a coward than he already felt.

"Is he not awake?" Robb turned to Sansa, leaning his forearm against the bar and unable to lift his gaze from the bloodied brute mere feet away.

"Not yet," Sansa whispered. Her voice had caught his attention, and it was only then that Robb noticed Sansa was just as scared as he was. Taking a step back so they were side by side, he dropped his hand down and gripped tightly onto hers. She quickly reciprocated, squeezing his hand with a strength he wasn't aware she had.

"Enough of this," Robb muttered impatiently, gripping for the dagger on his belt with his free hand and whipping it out. He reached forward and started to bang the blade against the metal, causing a shrill clang that instantly woke the Bolton Bastard up.

The siblings watched quietly as he sputtered awake, letting out a cough and trying to force his eyelids open. It was clear he was already feeling the full extent of his injuries, but unlike Fianna - he wouldn't be given milk of the poppy to somewhat soothe him.

Finally, he was able to lift his head up, looking as if he were about to fall asleep again at any second. Once he saw who was standing awaiting for his reaction, his eyes fixed on the brother and sister, still showing a wickedness even with his weakness.

"Ah, my pets," he grunted through his pain, "hello Sansa and Ike."

"My name is Robb," he replied firmly, never more sure of himself. Ramsay let out a hoarse chuckle at this.

"Is it now? Are you really sure this time?"

Robb stayed quiet, but his face did the talking for him. His eyes were looking at the man with a violence he hadn't felt in years. If he felt fear on the inside still, he surely didn't look like he did.

"Is this where I'll be staying now?" Ramsay continued, his hands flexing out and testing the binds that entrapped his body.

"If you want to put it that way," Robb retorted. Sansa had yet to speak, but in truth, she didn't have anything to say to him.

"Hmm," he hummed in response, dropping his head slightly. "It seems our time together is about to end, Sansa. But that's alright. Neither of you have the guts to kill me. Sansa you were always a weak little thing, and now Robb - well you've turned into a proper coward haven't you?"

"Your words will disappear," Sansa finally spoke, Robb felt a swell of pride at how firm her voice was. "Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear."

"The Dreadfort has been burned to the ground by my dear wife, who you tried to keep me from, Winterfell is out of your hands and your entire family is dead. So, we thought we'd let you go out alongside the only things you have left in your life," Robb teased him, his voice low and threatening.

As if prompted, a sudden growl echoed through the cage. Ramsay narrowed his eyes at the wide smirk Robb currently wore, before turning his head to see that the cage next to him was in fact, very much open.

He turned his head to the other side, and sure enough - all of the cages were open, the hounds that were supposed to be held in were beginning to slowly exit and make their way towards him.

Despite their growls and pouncing towards him, Ramsay stayed vigilant.

"My hounds will never harm me."

"You haven't fed them in seven days, you said it yourself," Sansa commented, unable to even blink in case she would miss anything.

"They're loyal beasts," he refuted.

"They were," Robb interrupted. "And now they're starving."

The nearest hound jumped up on Ramsay, resting his paws on his lap and sniffing his face relentlessly. Ramsay was terrified, his persona couldn't hide it.

"Sit," he commanded, but the dog had only stuck his tongue out and licked the bloodied man's face instead. "Down!"

Having a taste for blood now, the hound shot forward and sunk his teeth into Ramsay's mouth, causing him to howl in pain. Sansa gripped Robb's hand tighter than ever, so he squeezed back in reassurance.

Eventually, the rest of the hounds joined in on the feast, each devouring a separate limb of their master. Sansa broke away from Robb and turned to trail back, stopping to see if he would follow. But Robb couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene.

Finally, he felt a little sense of his pride come back to him.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The next day, she had finally convinced the maester and Robb to let her leave the bedroom. They looked appalled by the suggestion, insisting she should be bedridden for at least a week. But when she finally admitted that she could no longer waste time here, she wanted to get the important matters over with so that they could return to Baelfort to see their children, Robb had offered to carry her to the feast.

The cleanup of Winterfell had taken the day, and despite the blood staining the stone and the wooden entrance that was still in repair, the Stark Banners that hung on the wall shone brightly. Looking righteous as though they always belonged.

They had all agreed to postpone the celebratory feast until the next day, out of respect for the dead and for the clean up.

Finally, the time for supper had rolled around and Fianna was jostled into Robb's arms. He steadily lifted her up, worryingly doting on her when she hissed from the movement but shook her head, determined to persevere. Although Fianna was more muscle than fat, she was still rather heavy to carry. Thankfully for Robb, Jon had noticed this on his way to the dining hall and offered his help before they reached the narrow set of stairs.

Jon held the doors open until Robb made his way inside, the commotion catching the attention of the attendants. When they saw who it was, they immediately roared in a chorus of cheers, banging their cups against the wooden table. Fianna smiled and nodded thankfully, whispering to Robb to be let down. He looked at her in protest at first, but she wiggled herself free anyway to stand on her feet. Still, he wrapped her arm around his neck and supported her as she very slowly walked to the top table.

" _KING OF THE NORTH! QUEEN OF THE NORTH! KING OF THE NORTH! QUEEN OF THE NORTH!_ " They began to chant, their shouts almost deafening. Robb was surprised by his inclusion, but truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was warranted any more.

He helped Fianna settle down into the seat at the top table next to his, watching lovingly as she waved happily to the others already seated next to them - Arya, Sansa and Jon.

"Well, dear cousin," Tiernan called out as he approached the table, the ruckus having quietened down to loud chatting. "I may have to officially admit you're one of the hardest bastards in Westeros."

"Well," she jokingly flipped her hair over her shoulder, her newfound attitude and lifted spirits did not slip past him, "if you say so, it must be true."

"So, have you broke the bed yet?" He gestured between the husband and wife, prompting Robb and others nearby to laugh heartily. But Fianna had only picked up a stray vegetable on her plate and launched it at his head, leaving a small gravy stain in its wake.

"Tiernan Bua I gave you a castle, I will take it back!" She threatened, but he wasn't worried by her words. Fianna looked so happy seated next to her husband again that if he asked her could he burn the rest of the world to the ground, she wouldn't even notice.

After a few more exchanges of banter, with Robb joining in to tease both Buas now that he had known Tiernan better, he eventually retreated back to a table as more wine and food was served. It was then that Fianna decided she would talk.

She looked to Robb for encouragement, and he smiled softly, reaching up and cupping her cheek to run his thumb over her skin.

His siblings looked between each other, absolutely baffled by the display of affection. Robb had surely courted women before Fianna during his years as a young boy, but never had he so openly doted upon one in public.

"By the gods," Jon muttered to them, taking a sip from his cup, "he really does love her. Let's hope they go back to Baelfort before this happens all the time."

"They've always been like this," Arya commented drily, not even looking over as she could probably guess what they were doing. "Let's just say it was no surprise how quickly she fell pregnant after their wedding."

"Arya," Sansa scolded, causing the dark haired girl to lift her hands in defence as Jon chuckled.

Fianna, unable to stand up to deliver her words, slammed her cup down on the wooden table to catch everyone's attention. They let out a small cheer upon seeing who it was to call upon them, before quietening to let her speak.

"Tomorrow, I would like all the Lords and Ladies of the North to gather here, we have much to discuss. But for now, to my army," she lifted her cup, "for yet another victory. And to our new wildling friends," she smirked as they hollered in response, "for being the most vicious bastards the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen! The Bolton's and the Freys are dead, Winterfell belongs to the Starks and the North is free again!"

Everyone in the room cheered and downed their drink instantly, whooping and hollering for minutes afterward, probably because of the atmosphere and their victory.

Fianna settled back down into her seat, leaning into Robb's touch when he placed his hand on her knee comfortably.

"I'm surprised anyone can trust drinks around you and Arya after the white wedding," he joked, causing her to smirk and spare a glance towards her good sister. "Are you sure about your decision, Fianna?"

Earlier, Robb and Fianna had to push aside their reminiscent talks to discuss their future. Thankfully for them both, they had both agreed on the same solution.

"Yes," she dropped her voice to prevent anyone else hearing, a slightly saddened smile on her lips. It felt as though an era was coming to an end. "I don't want to be Queen, any more."

* * *

 **Phew, I don't why it was so daunting for me to write this chapter, which is why its a few days late. We're coming towards the end of season six now, and Fianna has decided she wants to give up her crown so it's probably easy to guess what direction this is going. I hope I gave justice to their relationship in the Robb/Fianna scenes because it has honestly been SO long since I've wrote them together I had to re-read old chapters to get back into the swing of them. But it's really refreshing to write a little happiness.**

 **I hope everyone liked this chapter, and thank you to everyone who read or reviewed the previous one!**

 **Shannan - You basically predicted what would happen this chapter! All except for daddy Robb, because that will be in the next one! I have the next few chapters planned for the events of season 7, but most likely when that is done this book will either end or go on hiatus in waiting for season 8, unfortunately! I can't believe I've dragged Fianna through six seasons already, it feels like I just started this book but I've been writing it for like nine months. I hope you like whats to come and I patiently wait for your opinions x**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Ahhhhh I'm so happy that you liked it! I hope this one lives up to your expectations 3**

 **starevolution1273 - I LISTENED TO THAT SONG WHILE WRITING IT AND KNEW I HAD TO FORCE OTHERS TO LISTEN AS WELL! I wonder what your doubts were and did they come true in this chapter? I had plenty of fluff in this one to make up for the looooooong period of time I kept them apart. Thank you so so much, your comments always warm my heart and I hope you have a great day! x**

 **reaganrose1315 - That makes me so happy!**

 **florabest - Awwww you are far too sweet! It took me a little longer to write this chapter because I felt like the battle of the north just sucked the life out of me ahah! I hope you liked this one, plenty of fluff for you all and plenty more to come 3**

 **willow441988 - WOW three times? I can't even read it three times and I wrote it! Thanks so much, your reaction means the world! x**

 **RoseAmeliaSarahNoblePond - Im so glad you think so and thank you! Have a nice day x**

 **-Line - That makes me so happy to hear, thank you from the bottom of my heart 3**


	49. (XLVIII) Goodbye and Hello

_Fianna_

Fianna Stark had dealt with Northerners her entire life, and to this day, she was finally sure that she would never acquire the patience needed to handle them.

After all, Fianna herself was from the North - and possessed every stubborn, loud and brash quality her allies and predecessors did, as did her husband. Although she was proud of herself and her family, and would take being a Northerner over being a Southerner any day, it was meetings like this that tested her.

Seated in the centre of the high table in the Great Hall of Winterfell was Robb and Fianna, just where the King and Queen should sit. Beside them, rested Rickon, Sansa, Jon and Arya, who all looked equally as tired of the atmosphere in the room.

All of the Lords spoke over one another rather rudely, and when they finally were able to hear the individual comments made by one, it was usually a protest or an insult. Finally, having enough of the babble, Robb lifted his hands up and smacked them together, echoing a clap around the room.

"Enough!" He shouted, silencing their voices instantly. "You will speak one at a time or you will not speak at all!"

"Your grace," Smalljon Umber stood up and called to him, his very presence was enough to irk Fianna. "You cannot expect us to side with Wildling invaders!"

"You sided with the Bolton's who slaughtered our own people, surely Wildlings are a step up from that?" Fianna couldn't help but fire back at him, instantly prompting his face to flush red as he received deathly glares from the rest of the room.

"And we didn't invade," Tormund added smartly, "we were _invited_."

"Not by us," Hatrick Hornwood replied when Smalljon took a seat. "We came to fight for the Queen in the North, the Wildlings were invited by Jon Snow."

"And the battle would probably have been lost long before my cousin arrived," Fianna disputed in their defence, "how many more of us would have been slaughtered if we didn't have the Wildling support?" Her words effectively silenced him, although murmurs rose up from the rest of the room.

"We find our true friends on the battlefield," Fianna remarked, "our true enemy now is the Bolton's, the Karstarks and the Flints. Their betrayal needs to be dealt with."

"The Bolton's are defeated, the war is over, Winter has come!" Henrick Mazin shot up. "If the maesters are right, it'll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms."

"The war is not over," Jon couldn't resist cutting over Fianna before she could answer, "and I promise you, friend. The true enemy will not wait out the storm. He brings the storm."

Robb and Fianna shared a glance, their gaze telling each other everything they both needed to know. He reached for his wife's hand under the table, clutching it tightly in reassurance as they both began to stand, preparing what they had practiced to say all night. Fianna's heart raced in her chest now that the entire room had turned to look upon them.

"My Lords," Robb began, squeezing Fianna's hand tighter than before. "You are right, the war in the North is over and Winter is coming. But like my brother has said, our true enemy is still coming. And then it won't matter who sits at Winterfell."

"I have never fought a White Walker," Fianna continued after him, "nor has my husband. I've never even seen one, or been North of the wall. You all have followed me loyally into battle for years now to avenge the Red Wedding, and we have never lost a battle together." Fianna's breathing hitched when her eyes caught onto Tiernan's, who's small head shake told her he knew exactly what was coming. "But this is a battle I cannot plan for. I know more than anyone how tired you all are, how you fear the coming cold and hunger, perhaps more than you fear the coming threat. But I cannot help you prepare for that."

"Nor can I," Robb added when she fell silent. "Your King and Queen should be fit to rule, and when it comes to a battle between life and death, Fianna and I are not the ones you need. Therefore, Fianna and I will be abdicating our Throne."

The reaction was instantaneous, every man and woman in the room - except for the uncaring wildlings, erupted, jumping from their seats with shouts. Jon, Rickon, Sansa and Arya's heads whipped to the side to look upon the couple in horror. Robb was the heir to the Northern crown, if he was abdicating - would it be out of Stark control again? Just when they got it back?

"Your grace!" Robbett Glover exclaimed. "Your heir is a child of three, he is not yet able to rule without a Regent!"

"Our heir will not be ruling as King," Fianna answered, struggling to keep her voice calm in the face of overwhelming disapproval. "Eddard Stark will become the Lord of Baelfort, not the King in the North." It was a decision that required much contemplation, but ultimately the duo decided that this was not a life they wanted for their children. War had ruined the two of them, they were not prepared to let it ruin their child.

"Do you mean to submit the North to the Lannisters again? To undo our entire revolution?" Medger Cerwyn boomed.

"Gods, no!" Robb responded in offence. "The North will still be in the hands of the Starks and its own dominion, I'm relinquishing my claim to my brother." Every pair of eyes in the room fixed on Robb Stark's hand, which placed itself on the shoulder of his bastard brother. "Jon Stark."

"Jon Snow is a bastard! He cannot rule!" Lord Dustin yelled in protest.

"He is no longer a bastard," Robb acknowledged, reaching towards a Fianna for the small scroll she had hidden in her skirts, which she handed to him carefully. Robb held the paper in the air, before handing it to Jon directly, who sat with a dumbfounded expression. "This is a royal decree, signed by myself, legitimising Jon."

"Robb and I will be returning to Baelfort as Lord and Lady of the stronghold," Fianna explained, hoping they would eventually understand her decision, even if they didn't now.

The room continued to bark in protest, leaving Robb and Fianna to sit down exasperatedly and wait until they calmed down. Robb looked to his wife with a tired expression, but the smallest of smiles remained on his lips, and that made her feel the world of better. He didn't regret their decision.

"What are you doing?" Sansa hissed from next to Arya, who was beside Fianna. But the youngest Stark girl was smirking at the spectacle, looking at Fianna in what appeared to be approval.

"Wise decision, _my lady_ ," Arya chimed, ignoring Sansa's obvious discontent.

"Why would you do that?" Jon was demanding from beside Robb, looking to his brother in anger. The fierce gaze the entire room had fixed on him made him anxious, although he couldn't deny - hearing the words 'Jon Stark' warmed his heart more than any crown ever would.

"I trust you when you tell me about the wildlings, Jon," Robb answered, clapping his hand on his brother's back. "You need an army to fight with you, not just a King to be on your side."

Jon was silent, unable to bring himself to answer. He knew he should feel immensely grateful towards his brother, but it was a lot of responsibility and Jon pondered if he wanted that.

Then again, it was better than being killed by the army of the dead.

Lyanna Mormont was growing tired of the seemingly endless protests. She didn't care who ruled the North, as long as they were a just leader and they were a Stark. How could her fellow Lords expect battle-hardened Fianna and Robb to lead them against a threat they knew nothing of? Sometimes, she felt as if she were the only level-headed person in Westeros.

Letting out a huff of impatience, she stood up, preparing herself to shut down grown men as she always had the ability to do.

"Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly," she nodded her head towards Wyman, "do you wish to lose another at the hands of the undead?"

He looked around in bewilderment, taken aback by the fury of the young girl who stood mere feet from him. But she had already redirected her attention onto someone else.

"You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Umber, but in their hour of greatest need, you chose to fight alongside their enemy. Will you choose to fight alongside the White Walkers, too? And you, Lord Cerwyn, your house is the nearest to the Wall. If it comes down, would you want to be fighting an army by yourself? Will you be handing weapons to the servant girls?"

The entire room was stunned into silence by the girl's harsh words, except for Fianna. Lyanna was one of her most loyal followers and had been since the very beginning. She couldn't help but smile in reminiscence at the memory of the child standing up to men twice her size and declaring Fianna as her queen.

"We have fought and got our vengeance for those we had lost, and now the person who led us to victory is telling us that to continue to survive we need to follow another Stark, and you will deny her? I don't intend to be the last Mormont in my line. House Mormont will live on for centuries after myself, following no other King but the King in the North who's name is Stark. I don't care if he's a bastard, Ned Stark's blood runs through his veins and he will become _my_ King. From this day, until his last day."

Robb looked to Fianna with the brightest of grins, and she raised her eyebrows in return, as if to say 'I told you so'. Fianna knew well the North would follow Jon, after they got over their initial shock.

"Lady Mormont speaks harshly," Lord Manderly rose, "and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf. Fianna Stark, the She Wolf, helped me get my vengeance, no doubt by the brilliant mind she surely possessed from her father. Who am I to question that mind now? There will be no North if we do not stop this threat, and we will follow the White Wolf if he will be the one to stop it." Wyman reached for his sword, causing Jon's eyes to widen dramatically. "The King in the North!"

"There will be more fights to come," Robbett Glover joined him in standing, "and House Glover will stand behind House Stark as we have for a thousand years! And I will stand behind Jon Stark, the King in the North!"

Fianna rushed to stand, whipping the sword from her scabbard and angling it towards Jon, careful not to cut her own husband in its wake. She repeated the chant, which was enough to encourage the entire room to erupt into the damning cheers she had heard three times already in her lifetime. Robb joined her in standing, as did Arya, who whipped out her thinner and smaller sword. Sansa and Rickon stayed seated, but their lips were upturned, not entirely disapproving.

Fianna couldn't help but let out a laugh of glee when her eyes met Lyanna Mormont's, shaking her head in disbelief that the girl had done it again. Desperately, she tried to ignore the pang of sadness that developed at her sudden loss of power, in favour of the hope she held for a simple life with Robb, raising their children together.

* * *

"The next time I see you, you'll be all in Grey, I'd hope," Robb smirked wildly at Jon, leaning in to give him a bear-like hug which was immediately reciprocated.

"You're an absolute fool for leaving the North to me," Jon muttered as he pulled away, although his words were pessimistic - his face was bright, if not slightly saddened at having to say goodbye to his brother so quickly after finding him again.

"Good luck with that crown, it's an awful heavy thing," he joked, pointing towards the pointed object uncomfortably sitting on his black, curly hair. "It looked better on me, anyway."

"The only thing that's ever looked better on you, then."

They shared another hug before Robb moved to the next person in the line of goodbyes, leaving Fianna to Jon's devices.

"You'll take care of those babes for me?" He asked, leaning down slightly to embrace the smaller woman.

"I'll tell them all about their uncle, the Shite Wolf."

" _White_ wolf," he corrected, but Fianna had only snorted and squeezed his bicep assuredly.

"You keep telling yourself that."

"I'm sure it'll be you taking care of Winterfell," Robb was in the middle of telling Sansa, the redhead giving a small, humbled smile in return.

"Somebody has to keep you boys in line," Sansa raised her brows, meeting Fianna's eyes as she took her place in front of her.

Neither woman knew what to say to the other. Their relationship was the newest of them all, and was still in a delicate state. In the end, they settled for a polite smile and a nod of their heads - with Sansa telling them she'd pray for their safe travels.

"Don't be going to weddings any time soon," Arya poked fun at Robb as she wrapped her arms around his middle. He threw his head back in laughter, his siblings and wife joining in.

"Don't be kissing my wife again any time soon," he fired back, causing her eyes to widen and her cheeks to flush, looking accusatory at Fianna.

"You told him!"

"I had to," Fianna held her hands up in defence. "Wives don't keep secrets from their husbands, sweet Arya!"

The Baelfort native shoved her husband lightly so she could wrap her arms around Arya, squeezing her tightly while Robb and Rickon shared their goodbyes.

"It was an honour to be your first kiss," Fianna chimed, ruffling the shorter girls hair and backing away.

"Do you have to go?" Rickon's words stopped her amusement, her smirk instantly falling into a grim line. Although Rickon tried so hard to look like a man grown, he looked as young and vulnerable as ever as he looked at the woman who had been raising him for the last few years.

"I'm not going far," Fianna hushed, stepping towards him. "And you can always come and stay at Baelfort, any time you'd like. The twins will miss you, for sure."

Rickon didn't answer her, choosing instead to fix his gaze over her shoulder pointedly. Fianna let out a laugh at his strop, bringing him in for a hug.

As they finally made their way towards their horses, Robb couldn't help but feel giddy knowing what was ahead of him. Of course he was saddened to say goodbye to his siblings so soon, but the prospect of meeting the children he had dreamed about for years dawned on him and cast away his ill feelings.

Fianna broke away from him at the sight of her cousin, making a beeline towards him as he too prepared his horse to leave for the Twins.

"That was quite the spectacle," Tiernan scoffed, fastening the straps on his horse.

"Are you going to leave without saying goodbye?" Fianna asked nervously, unsure of what his opinion of the situation was. Her decision to step down was the first time since the Red Wedding she had made a major decision without informing him.

He sighed softly, finally turning around to face her. It took him a second, but eventually he gave in and wrapped his arm around her shoulders lazily.

"I'll forgive you," he conceded, before a sudden quirk of his lips made her groan. " _If_ you put in a good word for me with Sansa."

"With Sansa?" Fianna repeated in bewilderment. "Why?"

"I've got a thing for redheads," he practically beamed, his eyes drifting to something behind her - no doubt her good-sister. Fianna rolled her eyes and shoved his arm roughly to recapture his attention. "I've got a thing for strong woman, as well. She was quite a pretty sight to behold when we came to Winterfell and she sat on a horse, smirking as we sliced through the Bolton's like a knife through cheese."

"Robb will kill you if you even attempt it, Tiernan," Fianna warned, before casting a quick glance around and dropping her voice. "I approve though, so I'll hold him back and you go for it."

"You're a good one, cousin," he breathed a laugh, bringing her in for a proper hug.

Now that their goodbyes were held, Fianna and Robb could finally return to Baelfort and take up their position as Lord and Lady. More importantly, as mother and father.

* * *

"You gave up your crown to be a _Lady_ ," was the first words Bonifer Hasty spoke to Fianna when her and Robb arrived in the courtyard of Baelfort. "You definitely got that from your father's side of the family, no Hasty would never make such a stupid choice. Or perhaps your grandmother's, because that is positively _mad_."

The girl in question rolled her eyes, her inner thighs were aching from the journey and her hair was surely raised in every direction except down. Grunting, she slipped expertly down from her horse's back and made her way towards the castle, lazily calling over her shoulder.

"Robb, meet my long-lost grandfather, Bonifer. Bonifer, meet my long-lost husband, Robb."

The two men shared an awkward handshake, their eyes flitting over each other with suspicion. Fianna had glanced back to notice it, and rolled her eyes again at the building testosterone. She supposed Bonifer wasn't accustomed to having a man of a higher rank at Baelfort.

"Catreen," Fianna gushed the second she saw the servant girl, reaching for her shoulders gently. "Where are my little darlings?"

"They're in the nursery, of course," she replied dutifully, receiving a look of gratefulness in return. Robb had caught up with Fianna at this point, but she hadn't noticed that he was stood completely still in the hall as she jetted off upstairs. When Fianna realised she didn't hear the distinct echo of footsteps behind her, she turned and saw her husband - standing deathly silent.

"Robb?" She pressed, worriedly. "What is it?"

"What if-" he began, stopping himself at the sound of his own patheticness. "What if I can't bond with them as a father should? They don't know me, Fianna..."

"Trust me, Robb," she soothed him, stepping back down the stairs and slipping her fingers through his idle hands, slightly elevated above him as she stood on a step. "The bond you'll feel with them will be the truest thing you'll ever know, I'd dare say you'll love them more than you love me."

"Who says I love you?" He teased, forcing a small smile to mask his worry. Fianna shook her head, cupping his cheek with one of her hands and leaning down to press her lips to his tenderly. Robb allowed their lips to brush against each other for a few seconds, not making a move to deepen the kiss. It was enough of a distraction however, as when Fianna began to drag him slightly forward up the stairs, he came eagerly, this time.

Fianna opened the nursery door cautiously, in case they should be sleeping. At the sight of her, the servant girl who was watching over them exclaimed in relief. The three had been seated on furs in front of the fire, playing with toys, but it was clear the sight was not that innocent judging by her frazzled state.

"Mama!" The two toddlers cried out when the saw her in the door frame, abandoning their toys to run towards the door as fast as they could with their little legs. They shoved each other as they ran to get to her first, making Fianna frown at their behaviour but crouching down to meet them anyway.

"Hello, my loves," she greeted warmly, her chest tight as she crouched to her knees and welcomed them into her open arms. She had almost completely forgotten about their father behind her, who hadn't made a sound since they entered.

Robb was completely transfixed. He had been old enough to remember when his mother was pregnant with Arya, Bran and Rickon. The idea of pregnancy and development of a child wasn't lost on him. But the idea that the two small children in the room were the product of him and the one he loved most in the world, absolutely baffled him.

His brain tried to rationalise, his pessimistic side completely taking over and trying to convince him that they weren't even his children. But the longer he stared, the less he could deny. The reddish mop of curls they shared, the brightness of their eyes and the facial features that could be seen developing underneath a layer of baby fat was a strange, undeniable and perfect mix of both himself and Fianna.

"This," she turned around, prompting the two toddlers who had nestled their faces into either of her shoulders to look up and see, "is your father."

Robb fell to a knee, his mouth slightly ajar and eyes as wide as ever as he remarked upon them. He was sure at that moment, he would never be good enough to have their young eyes even look upon him.

They looked confused by her statement, probably unsure of what the word 'father' even meant, so they stood still for a moment, drinking his appearance in.

In the end, it was Aifric that broke through the seemingly endless space between them, always the more confident of the twins. She slapped her feet against the ground as she stomped toward him. Immediately, he scooped her up into his lap, sitting back on his bottom so it would be more comfortable.

"Who are you?" Aifric demanded, her words barely understandable with her babble.

"I'm Robb, your father," he explained, looking at her in as much amazement as fear. As if she could hurt him as easily as make him happy.

"I'm Aifric," she replied, whipping her head around to point at her brother who still hadn't moved. "Eddie!" She called, and instantly he scampered towards them too.

"Hi, little man," Robb whispered, tears pricking at his eyes as his two children were now in close proximity to him, a situation he never thought he'd get to be in.

"Do you like to play?" Eddie asked, his voice much quieter than Aifric's had been.

"I love to play," Robb nodded eagerly, settling Aifric safely on her feet and crawling after Eddie, who returned to the toys beside the fire. Robb followed gingerly, settling beside him and listening to each word he told them as Eddie began to go through his toys, picking each one up and explaining what it was and that it was his.

Occasionally, Aifric would grunt in frustration and say that that one in particular was in fact _hers_ , but the bickering only warmed his heart instead of annoyed him.

Fianna watched from the side, suddenly feeling slightly like an outsider, but she didn't mind. She wasn't sure she'd ever feel as full as she did at that moment as she met Robb's gaze.

He looked at her with a gaze of love and disbelief at that moment, almost as if he couldn't quite believe the Gods considered him fortunate enough to meet such a person. The person who had given him the greatest gifts of all, in the form of two bickering three-almost-four year olds.

* * *

 **LEMME STOP YOU BEFORE YOU HATE ME.**

 **I know there is gonna be so many who disagree with their choice, which is why I want to explain really quickly first. I know I always said this book would be slightly AU based on the butterfly effect, but in this instance I had to let Jon become King and I do feel that it makes sense for their characters. Robb has literally been tortured for years, and now that he's finally free, he doesn't feel like a King any more, his mind is in no state to be able to fulfil that roll, which I'll explore more on in the next chapter. He's learning from his father's mistakes now that he's found out that he is a father. Ned was betrayed like Robb was, except Ned lost his life for it and now his children will never see him again. Robb knows that, BEING his eldest son, and now that he's a father he wants to make the choice that Ned SHOULD have made by staying home with his wife and children. Fianna's decision has been building up for a few chapters now, if you'll recall her earlier conversation with Arya about being tired of war and wanting to return to her children. Of course, she will struggle with that decision in the future as we all know how much she craved that power in the beginning.**

 **The next war is starting, and it's a war between the living and the dead. Fianna and Robb have no experience with this, they were raised on how to be a Lord and Lady, not how to fight the white walkers. Jon however knows how to fight them, so I feel it makes sense they'd give him the crown, especially given the fact that Robb in the books supposedly legitimised Jon and named him next in line, but the deed was lost after the Red Wedding.**

 **There's only a couple of chapters left before this book will go on hiatus until season 8, and I fully intend on focusing on Robb and Fianna now that the action has died down and I have the chance to do that.**

 **So please don't hate me! I'm trying to protect my little babies!**

 **Thanks so much to everyone who read and/or reviewed the last chapter!**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - So great to hear! I hope you liked this one! x**

 **starevolution1273 - Awwww thank you so much! I wish you all the best at college, I'm currently waiting until my break is over so I can start classes again so I can tell you that you're going to have the time of your life! Thanks for your review and have a great week 3 x**

 **Guest - Oh my god same, I needed a little respite there because the previous chapters were so HEAVY**. **Thanks for reviewing! x**

 **-Line - I hope that it lived up to your expectations! x**

 **Padfootette - Ahhhhh thank you thank you! Have a great day!**

 **Scoob96 - First of all, I want to thank you for your honesty in your comment. Second of all, I just want to say I completely agree. It is in no way realistic that Robb would just go back to being totally happy and fine, which is partly why I made the choice to have them abdicate as King and Queen. Now that the action has died down and the initial shock of their reunion is over, Fianna will finally start to see the changes in her husband and his true mental state will come to show. Before, he was driven by getting back to her and reuniting with his family but now that he has, there'll be nothing to distract everyone from how Robb truly feels now. This chapter and the previous one were kind of like a little break for the readers, and for myself admittedly, because they had spent sooooo long apart and I felt that it was nice for the book to finally have some happy moments for the first time in, like, 20 chapters. But of course, things aren't as good as they seem. I also agree that there is a disconnect between the first and second half of the book, I struggled to WRITE past the Red Wedding so I'm sure it was difficult to read. But at the time of writing the Red Wedding, I saw no other option but to separate them if I wanted to keep Robb alive. If they both had escaped, they would have easily ran North and stayed in power, which would have completely cancelled out the canon events in the show. Fianna had to think that Robb died so she could become queen and enact revenge, Sansa had to be sent to the Boltons to be reunited with Jon and Arya had to go to Braavos to become no one. I hope that I've explained myself well enough, and I hope that the next few chapters are to your liking as they'll be primarily focused on Robb, Fianna, their relationship and their psyches. Thanks for leaving a review, and I hope that the book will become satisfactory for you again, I really do x**


	50. (XLIX) Turbulent Trauma

_Song: Hurricane by Fleurie_

 _Fianna_

"Robb- no, don't! She just ate, she'll get sick!" Fianna huffed as she marched across the yard towards her husband and daughter, the former in the middle of spinning the latter around in a circle.

" _Whee_!" Aifric squealed excitedly, her face flushed red as her father's laughter boomed in her ears. At the stern words of her mother, Robb lowered the child down to stand on her own two feet, already stumbling from her sudden lack of balance. Noticing this, Robb placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"Oh come on," he complained with a playful grin towards his wife, "we're just playing!"

Just as soon as he spoke the words, Aifric's stomach heaved, causing her to bend over and throw up the food she had just ate onto the snow beneath her and her shoes.

Fianna raised an eyebrow at him, frustration filling her as she marched forward. The Northern lady lifted the small girl up into her arms, resting her on her hip, and then turned swiftly to head back inside.

"I wish you'd just bloody listen for once in your life!" Fianna shouted behind her, prompting Robb to roll his eyes and step back from the foul smelling liquid in front of him.

She knew that it was a small thing to get so worked up about, but Fianna found herself getting angry over the slightest of things in the two months that Robb had returned to Baelfort with her.

Fianna Stark was going out of her mind with restlessness. She had not been at such a stationary point in her life since her father had been alive, and now the sudden and swift change to being a simple Lady of the North again was becoming underwhelming, as much as it shamed her to admit it.

She couldn't bring herself to regret her decision, it was the right thing to do for herself and for her family, who she had neglected so much since that fateful night at the Twins nigh on four years ago. But that didn't mean she was adjusting easily.

Fianna had spent the better part of that time focusing on battle strategies and training herself and her body for war, but now the war was over. At least, the one in Westeros was. Winter had come and there was no way the Lannisters would dare venture North to reclaim the land until it was over. The Bolton's and the Freys were gone, and as much as it baffled her, that had left an absence within her. It was no secret she had let rage consume her over that time, but filling that void with love and tranquility was easier said than done.

She hated to think that perhaps she was the reason for the wedge between herself and her husband, but truly, they both contributed to that.

When they arrived at Baelfort, they had both been so filled with hope. Robb had marvelled over the stronghold, claiming that he could see himself living out his days here with his wife and children. But after the first few days, it was clear that the happy ending they envisioned wasn't going to be in their grasp any time soon.

It had started small, Robb would wake up with a shout from his sleep, drenched in sweat and shaking violently. And try as she did, Robb wouldn't open up to his wife about the nightmares he saw in his head. Every time she would ask, he would play it off, telling her he wasn't ready to talk just yet.

Fianna accepted this at first, but now her patience was wearing thin, as she was forced to watch as Robb's state deteriorated from bad to worse. There were times where he would glance at Fianna with the deepest look of confusion, reaching out to touch her and make sure that she was there and tangible - an action that baffled her to no end. Other times, he would be sitting peacefully one moment, and then start slapping himself on the head the next, as if trying to beat some of the images that had run rampant in his brain out of himself.

The sight of him was breaking Fianna, and the fact he had shut her out emotionally made it even worse. She had never felt so helpless in her life, and the fact that her husband didn't rely on her as a husband should, made her question if she was failing as a wife.

She had asked a serving girl to run Aifric a bath, waiting patiently while it was filled with hot water until it cooled enough for the child's skin to handle. Fianna gently stripped her daughter, lifting her into the air and settling her inside of the bathtub.

"Mama?" Aifric's sweet voice sounded out, breaking Fianna's train of thoughts as she gently cleaned her baby-soft skin to rid it of the faint smell of bile.

"Yes, my love?" Fianna replied, her lips quirking up at the corners. She couldn't deny that as much as she missed being a Queen, she had missed spending moments with her children more.

"Are you angry with me?" Her innocent question caused Fianna's eyebrows to furrow, shaking her head immediately in denial.

"Never, sweet girl," she cooed, running her hand over Aifric's gorgeous rustic hair.

When the child was clean and growing wearily tired, Fianna took her out of the bath, drying and dressing her for bed. She carried her sleepy form in her arms, Aifric's face nestled into her neck, towards the nursery. The cots they slept in during their infancy had been replaced with small twin beds for the twins, now that they were old enough to not roll over and fall onto the floor.

Fianna's step faltered slightly when she saw that Robb was already inside the room, his head swiftly turning upon hearing her enter as he tucked Eddie in amongst the furs.

She smiled awkwardly, words unable to come to her mind as she trailed forward and nestled Aifric into her respective bed, planting a kiss on her forehead. Fianna turned towards Eddie to repeat the action, causing Robb to practically scramble to get away from the bed.

Forcing a smile, she leaned down and said goodnight to her son, pecking his forehead and rubbing his cheek softly with her forefinger.

When she made her way to exit the room and return to the bath that had been refilled for herself, she couldn't help but completely ignore Robb on the way out. Deciding it was better than making awkward eye contact. The old Fianna would have cursed her for putting further strain on her relationship, but that was the old Fianna, just like Robb wasn't the old Robb.

* * *

Fianna let out a sigh of relief as the warm water flooded over her skin, instantly heating it from the bitter cold air that had filled the castle. Leaning back against the tub, she closed her eyes in relaxation, her head tilting back.

Her calmness was almost immediately interrupted by the door of the room opening harshly, causing her to shoot up in an attempt to cover her bare chest. When she saw that the new occupant was merely her husband, Fianna rolled her eyes and rested back against the tub.

"What do you want?" She asked, uncaring for how rude she sounded.

"I want you to stop acting like a bitch," Robb bit back, his furious tone causing her eyes to snap open and meet his angered expression.

"What did you just say to me?" She scoffed in disbelief, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Ignoring me because I played with my daughter? I didn't realise I had married Cersei Lannister," his tone was cold, eyes never straying from hers as he stood a few feet away from the tub.

"And I didn't realised I had married a mute, because you may as well be for as much as you talk to me," Fianna threw her hand up in exasperation, splashing droplets of water.

"You have no idea what I've been through so don't sit there and act like you do," he shook his head, jaw stiffening at her words.

"Then give me an idea!" She bellowed suddenly, the frustration building for the past two months finally getting to her. "I wanted you to let me in, and I've tried to be patient but by the gods, Robb! It's been two months!" Fianna sat up again in the bath, uncaring that she was stark naked and that it was probably inappropriate giving the nature of their conversation.

"Is this because I'm not the same girl you fell for?" She continued, her voice decreasing in volume gradually. "Is this because I have scars now and marks on my skin from the babes and that I'm not the naive little child running around after you on the battlefield any more?" Her voice had broken as she finished, sobs building in her throat that she had tried to desperately to push down.

"No," he sighed heavily, making his way towards the bath and dropping to his knees beside it, "I love you just as much now as I did then, scars and marks and all. You're still Fianna, to me."

"Then why can't you bear to touch me?" She dared to ask, her voice quiet and full of shame, causing her cheeks to blush fiercely. "You haven't since we've come back, and I thought that perhaps you were just overcoming your past and adjusting but you don't even hold me at night, any more."

"You have no idea what he did to me," he murmured, cupping her damp cheek and pushing locks of her hair behind her ear. The shake in his fingers while he did so almost broke her heart in two, and Fianna was caught between feeling selfish by wishing he would let her in, and feeling guilt for being so impatient after only two months.

"Then give me an idea," she whispered, bringing her hand to cover his. Robb's eyes drifted down from her own to her lips, settling there for a moment. He took his lower lip between his teeth, contemplating his next action.

Taking her by surprise, Robb leaned forward, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to hers. His free hand flew up to press flat against the side of her head. Fianna almost whimpered at the sensation, there was such emotion in the way he held her, she hadn't realised just how much she truly needed him in a physical sense.

The longer he kissed her, the more passionate he became, as Fianna's wet hands reached up to slip her fingers through his curls, gripping the strands tightly. The metal side of the tub prevented their bodies from touching, and when he was finally fed up and frustrated, Robb broke apart from their kiss momentarily to stand up and lift his leg over into the tub.

Fianna giggled as he submerged himself into the lukewarm water, fully dressed, the new submergence causing water to dispel over onto the floor. But neither of them cared, nor did they care for how cramped it suddenly was, reattaching their lips as soon as they could.

Robb settled his body in between her legs after encouraging her to lay back, their stomachs flush together as his hands began to roam over her body.

Fianna felt as if she was on fire, she hadn't been touched like this since before they were separated, and it had been so long since that she was convinced she didn't even need it. But by the gods, with the shivers that ran through her body when Robb's fingers brushed her inner thighs, Fianna never wanted to stray so much as an inch from him again.

Robb's fingers fumbled in the water, eventually meeting her core and causing her to sigh in satisfaction. Within a matter of minutes, she was biting down on his lip to stop the prolonged groan that threatened to escape her lips. The ease with which he was able to bring her to a high as quick as he ever had before shocked her, especially since it had been so long since their last _experience_.

Now that she was ready, Robb struggled with ridding his soaked clothes from his body, the fabric sticking to his skin and refusing to peel off. The sight of him, fumbling with his attire in the bathtub with her, splashing water here, there and everywhere was enough to induce chuckles from Fianna. The sound caused him to raise an eyebrow at her, his lips lifting in a smirk.

"I can assure you, you won't be laughing in a few minutes."

* * *

Fianna slept soundly that night, wrapped in her husband's arms and tired out from their earlier indiscretions. They still had a lot to discuss, but she felt as if they made real progress earlier, bridging a gap between them that had formed. She was almost certain that when morning light broke, Robb would tell her exactly what was going on in his mind, and that reassurance lulled her to sleep.

That was until stirring movement beside her woke her from her slumber. Fianna blinked rapidly, wondering what it was that disturbed her. It took her a second to realise that there was a noticeable absence on her stomach, where hours before an arm had lay.

She tiredly turned her head to look upon her husband, who was laying flat on his back, his head shaking back and forth rapidly as he muttered to himself.

"Robb?" Fianna asked quietly, sensing he was having a nightmare. She sat up in bed and rested her hand on his chest, gently shaking him. "Robb, wake up..."

"No, no, no," he whimpered over and over, and when he didn't awaken right away, her shaking got more forceful. Finally, his eyes snapped open, gaze flicking towards her face hovering over his, full of worry.

There was a second of calm, before his expression morphed into one of distress and he almost flew from the bed, scampering backwards on the floor in a desperate attempt to get away from her.

"Robb?" She called out in confusion, her eyes widening as he stood up abruptly and reached for his sword that had been resting on the dresser.

"You're not real!" He bellowed, angling the tip of the blade in her direction.

"By the _gods_ ," she screamed, scrambling off of the other side of the bed. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?!"

"Get out of my head!" He roared, taking a step forward. Even though he was on the other side of the room, Fianna was instantly nervous by his demeanour. Nervous may have been an understatement, perhaps terrified was a more suitable adjective.

Fearing for herself, she reared around and grabbed her own sword that had been propped up against the wall, dragging it out of its sheath and holding it up. She couldn't believe that the man she loved so dearly, was the very man she was pointing a sword towards, in case he attacked her.

"Put the sword down, Robb," she spoke again, her voice lowered and forceful this time.

"My name is not Robb," he shook his head, face reddening fiercely - with anger or sadness, she couldn't tell.

"Your name is Robb Stark. You're my husband, we are not at the Dreadfort, we are at _Baelfort_. I am alive and so are your children who are _asleep_ down the hall," she replied back, her hand gripping the handle of Wolfsbane tight enough for her knuckles to whiten.

Robb's eyes trailed from her down to his sword, as if he hadn't realised he was holding it. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking around at his surroundings without recognition. After a few seconds, he was able to meet his wife's eyes again, horror filling him when he saw her stance and the fear in her eyes.

Robb dropped the sword instantly, looking down at the ground with a small shake of his head as sobs began to wrack his body. His now free hands reached up and began to scrape violently through his hair, pulling harshly on the locks of curls.

Any sense of fear left Fianna with the drop of his sword, instantly being replaced with worry as she copied his action and rushed around to his side of the room, wrapping her arms around him as he practically fell into her arms.

They both sank to the ground, arms held tightly around each other with Robb burying his face in her chest, muffling his cries. She found herself on the verge of tears, biting the inside of her cheeks to appear as strong as possible for him. While inside, her mind was reeling, realising the true extent of Robb's mental torture.

"You're alive," he mumbled against her nightgown, fingers digging into her back with how fiercely he held onto her, but she didn't mind.

"I'm alive," she repeated, soothingly running her hands through his hair.

They stayed like this for a while, until Robb had fully come out of the state he was in, his confusion being replaced with realisation and humiliation. Although Fianna assured him that it was okay.

When she was finally able to coax him back into bed, she rested her arm over his stomach this time instead.

* * *

 _Sansa_

"I reckon he'll ask for your hand any day now," Arya's voice sounded out as they watched the man in question practice his sword fighting with Jon from the balcony.

Sansa cast a side eye to her sister for her words, but she herself couldn't deny the possibility. It had been weeks since they reclaimed Winterfell for the Starks, and still, Tiernan Bua had not left the castle to return home. He had even sent the vast majority of his army back to the Twins to ensure its upkeep, but he himself had insisted on staying longer. Arya knew exactly why.

As if knowing she were thinking of him, the light haired lord looked up from his dual with Jon after once again losing, beaming brightly when he saw her eyes were already on him.

Sansa's cheeks reddened in equal parts embarrassment and frustration. She hated how Tiernan would think she were staring at him out of lust, when she was simply watching his playful practice with her half-brother.

"Sansa Bua doesn't really have a ring to it, does it?" Arya cut in again when she didn't reply, eliciting an eye roll.

"I wouldn't marry him even if he had asked," she refuted in denial.

"And why not?"

"Well," she stammered, struggling to come up with reasons behind her decision, "look at him! I don't know what Fianna was thinking when she appointed him, because he has the manners of a wildling and the appearance of a stable boy. What self-respecting Lord would wear breeches and a dirty shirt?"

"He saved our lives in the Battle of the North," Arya added, rolling her own eyes at her sisters prejudice.

"He's Fianna's cousin!" Sansa continued.

"And?" She replied in confusion.

"How many more Starks are going to marry Buas? Soon enough, they'll be claiming Winterfell for themselves."

"Now you are just being ridiculous," Arya complained, "would you rather marry Smalljon Umber?"

"I'd rather not marry again at all," she answered, "two betrothals seem more than enough for one lifetime."

"Considering you married a dwarf and were engaged to a bastard, I would say a Lord of one of the most powerful strongholds in Westeros is a step up."

Before they could continue their bickering, Tiernan was bounding up he wooden staircase towards them, effectively silencing Sansa's protests.

"Lady Sansa, Lady Arya," he greeted, nodding to her and her sister with a wide grin, "or is it Princess? I can never tell."

"Can I help you, my lord?" Sansa raised an eyebrow.

"I was wondering if you would kindly escort me to the stables, my lady," he offered, grinning cheekily and holding out his elbow to her.

Sansa forced a small smile out of politeness, wrapping her hand around his elbow and trying to ignore the faint smell of sweat emanating from him after his exertions.

"I suppose you'll have grown tired of my face around these parts," he commented casually.

"You're welcome to stay here, my Lord," she answered diplomatically, her cold expression and tone saying otherwise.

"Well, you'll not have to worry about faking your words any longer, I'll be leaving tomorrow," he revealed, causing her head to whip over to look at him.

"What?" She questioned, her voice in a higher tone than usual.

"Don't sound too excited, there's only so long I can neglect my Lordly duties to pull out your chair at dinner and walk you to your chambers at night," he shrugged, a small smile on his lips.

Sansa dropped her hand from his arm the instant they reached the stables, wondering why she had such a profound reaction to the news that he was leaving.

"Well, I wish you safe travel, my Lord," she spoke, but her eyes remained on the ground beneath her.

"You can't turn it off, can you?" He wondered aloud, turning his body so he could face her, a flicker of disappointment on his face at her indifferent reaction.

"What?"

"You can't just act or talk like you really feel for even a second," Tiernan sighed after speaking. It was no secret in Winterfell that Sansa Stark had suffered, gossip was always rampant whenever she walked past about her time in King's Landing and the abuse she suffered at the hands of Ramsay. Tiernan had heard it all from the old ladies in the kitchen he had bonded with so affectionately, her past provided a perfect explanation as to why her behaviour was always so cold, now. He never saw her crack a smile, or laugh along with her siblings.

At the beginning, Tiernan had been determined to melt the ice queen and make her see that now she was safe, she could relax. But his attempts had been unsuccessful during his stay at Winterfell, leading him to the conclusion that you can't push another person to act the way you want them to.

That conclusion was partly the reason he didn't ask for Sansa's hand in marriage. He had no doubt she would make a brilliant Lady, but he knew her better than she thought he did, and didn't want to make her uncomfortable by offering her such a thing. He was also nearly sure she absolutely despised him.

Instead of answering him, the redhead turned and walked away, ignoring her heart hammering in her chest and the flush in her cheeks. Thankfully, it wasn't long before she was met with a distraction in the form of a distressed half-brother approaching her, scroll in hand.

"Come with me, you won't believe what I've just received."

* * *

 _Robb_

It was around midday when he finally woke, judging by the small sliver of sunlight that broke through the wintery cloud cover. Fianna had awoken long ago, he guessed by the coldness in her side of the bed.

Robb rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and looked around groggily, jumping slightly in surprise at the image of the maester sitting in a chair by the door.

"What are you doing in here?" Robb asked suspiciously, prompting the older man to set down the book he was reading and stand up from his chair.

"Your wife asked me to check on your condition, fearing you may be ill," his words brought back an onslaught of memories from the night before. Robb had to curl his lips in to contain the groan that tried to escape, he felt absolutely humiliated at appearing weak in front of his wife.

"Tell me," Maester Janos began, his voice low and grumbling. "Do you sometimes... see things, my Lord?"

"I don't know what Fianna told you," Robb spit back defensively, throwing the furs from his body and padding towards the divider, where he could dress himself away from the eyes of Baelfort's maester.

"It is not as uncommon as you might think, my lord," he continued, "I have served as a maester for a long time, I have seen men come back from war with broken minds."

"I am not broken," Robb grit his teeth in anger.

"Maybe not, but you are not well, that is for sure. It is not something to be defensive about, the strongest of warriors can become affected by trauma."

Robb's muscles tensed as he pulled his shirt over his head, trying to control the anger rising in him.

"Even the great Cillian Bua suffered with hallucinations from time to time after Robert's War," Robb's eyebrows furrowed at the mention of his wife's father, reappearing around the divider now that he was clothed.

"What?"

"Lady Fianna's father. After Robert's Rebellion, he came home a changed man. He would suffer especially at night, often his Lady wife would awaken me, asking for something to help her husband sleep without roaring into the darkness."

The words washed over Robb. His father had prepared him for a great many things in life, but never for war. If this was something Ned Stark suffered from, Robb was unaware.

"Then how do I get rid of it?" Robb dared to ask, the question itself an admission of the problems he was suffering with.

"There is no known cure," the maester reported sadly, "time cures some, while others turn to alcohol and women of the night." Sensing Robb's disgust at the suggestion, he raised his eyebrows and made a move to leave the chambers. "Then I hope that time will be of benefit to you."

* * *

 _Fianna_

She had been seated in the great hall, eating alongside her children, when Robb had finally emerged. Fianna smiled encouragingly at her husband, hoping that he was still comfortable with her after the incident the previous night.

Robb forced a small smile in return, taking the seat opposite his wife and son, next to his daughter.

"You look well rested," Fianna commented kindly, Robb nodded in acknowledgment.

"I spoke with the maester," he revealed, catching her eye. Fianna already knew what the nature of their discussion was, as Janos had earlier relayed his conclusion about Robb to her that morning while he slept.

"We'll get through this, Robb," she reached across the table and grabbed his hand tentatively, in case he should move away from her, but he didn't. Instead, he clasped onto her hand tightly in return. "Like we always have, together."

Comically, Eddie reached over the table and smacked his tiny hand down on top of their conjoined ones, causing the moment to break and for the couple to break into chuckles.

Their amusement was interrupted by a serving girl, who approached Fianna with a small scroll in hand.

"For you, my lady," she handed the scroll to her. Fianna reached and retrieved it, her amused grin fading instantly at the sight of the symbol in the stamp sealing it.

It was like a sheet of ice wrapped around her. She didn't even know for sure who exactly the sender was, only what family they hailed from, and probably why they were sending it to _her_. The scroll could not have come at a worse time, the past she had pushed to the side since Robb had returned was now resurfacing with the intentions of making her look dishonest.

"Fianna," Robb began, his eyes glued to the scroll and full of suspicion. "Who sent you that letter? The Targaryens are all dead."

* * *

 **I'm actually really proud of this chapter. It's not often I write a chapter where no major events happen and it's just solely focused on character development, and usually when I do write chapters like this I feel they're boring or pointless, but I feel like this was completely essential. I wanted to delve into Robb's psyche after the years and how it impacts his relationship with Fianna, my goal for this story was always to have it as realistic as a Game Of Thrones fic could possibly be.**

 **So in case it wasn't obvious Fianna and Jon both received ravens from Daenerys, and we are finally onto season seven. I honestly can't believe I've wrote this fic for six full seasons of the shows events. I hope everyone liked this chapter and what's to come! x**

 **Guest - That makes me really happy that you agree they wouldn't get peace as King and Queen! They've basically been at war the entire book, they deserve time to breathe x**

 **LCluvanime - I'm so glad you agree they need a little family time! I have actually thought about the Jon/Dany relationship, I will say that there are events in season 7 that will change in this book as I have always done as a result Fianna's presence. But with their relationship, I'm not entirely sure yet because I don't know how important they will be in season 8. Like for example, if the entire season 8 was about Jon and Dany's relationship or they will have a child, I would probably have to leave it that way in this book. But of course, I don't know what will happen yet, so I'm still debating it!**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thank you so much! 3 Daenerys is on her way ;)**

 **Guest - It's really encouraging you agree that my plot makes sense, some would disagree with that so I was worried everyone would be against me! And gosh, agree with what you said about Jon and Dany. It was so beyond forced, and I couldn't BELIEVE Jon bent the knee to her. I'm really glad you brought it up, because I actually will be changing some of the events of season 7 that I felt were a little stupid. I hope you like the changes I make! Thanks so much for your support, it means the world! x**

 **-Line - Thank you so much! Have a wonderful day 3**

 **BigWilly526- Well sorry, but at the end of the day this is still my story. Of course reviewers input is really important to me, but at the end of the day the decision was mine to make and I chose the direction that I felt made sense knowing the characters I have written. Rickon is still too young to rule, there's no saying that he won't rule eventually and that Jon isn't acting as regent for him. Rickon isn't going to be leading an army against a bunch of white walkers. Bastard or not, Jon has to be the person to do that. And if you think that doesn't make sense, well I'm sorry but I'm sticking to it.**

 **Guest - yes I did cry actually!** ;_;

 **Scoob96 - No problem at all, I actually liked being able to explain myself to quell any concerns you had about the book! I'm really looking forward to hearing about your opinion of Robb's character in this chapter, whether or not you feel it lives up to a realistic expectation of how a normal person would act after trauma. Your worries about their relationship no longer being balanced with Fianna ruling Baelfort are completely right, and it will impact their relationship even further as the plot progresses. Especially with future decisions that Fianna will make, Robb may sit back and let her rule now, but they're both as stubborn as each other and it will lead to disagreements, particularly when Daenerys is introduced. Fianna being the individual in the relationship with a little more power than he has is not exactly common in GoT, so they'll eventually butt heads when he fully realises the decision he has made. At the time, he was just focused on reuniting with his kids that he didn't care much for titles. Tiernan will be the one to continue the Bua line now, but Fianna broke tradition by giving the Twins to Tiernan so that the Twins is the Bua stronghold now, not Baelfort. It's almost like there are two Stark places now, Winterfell and Baelfort. Some could argue that Fianna insulted her ancestors by doing so, but I'd like to think of it like the Twins was the place she completely lost everything, and now its the place where the Buas are stronger than ever. And don't worry, you're entitled to ask about the smallest of details and I will always try to answer your questions!**

 **starevolution1273 - you're such a sweet and encouraging person, thank you so much! It took me like a week longer to write this one because I was stressed as hell irl, and I wanted to wait until I was in the right mind to give everyone a chapter that's good enough! I hope you're having an amazing time at college and thank you as always! 3**

 **Shannan - You're absolutely right, head butting has happened and will keep happening for another while, especially now when he finds out she didn't tell him about her grandmother. Thanks for reviewing as always, have a wonderful day! x**


	51. (L) The Invitation

_Song: Atlantis by Seafret_

 _Fianna_

 ** _ **"Queen Daenerys Targaryen, First of her Name, invites you to Dragonstone. My queen commands the combined forces of Dorne and the Reach, an Ironborn fleet, legions of Unsullied, a Dothraki horde and three dragons. The Seven Kingdoms will bleed while Queen Cersei sits on the Iron throne.**_**

 ** _ **Queen Daenerys has requested you specifically, Lady Fianna of Baelfort, on a matter of personal affairs, and hopes you will accept her invitation.**_**

 ** _ **Tyrion Lannister."**_**

"You're not going," Robb commanded the second she finished reading it aloud, something she couldn't escape from doing as his suspicious glare ran through her the second he spotted the seal. She cursed the serving girl who delivered the scroll in the first place in front of her family instead of in her own privacy, but it truly wasn't anyone's fault.

It was as if the Gods had been judging her for withholding a secret from her husband, and decided to expose her deceitfulness.

"I didn't say I was, Robb," she replied in a cool tone, avoiding meeting his eyes and choosing instead to focus on a small blade of grass that had tangled itself into Eddie's curls, picking it out gently.

"It's a trap. A Lannister and a Targaryen working together? House Stark's two _greatest_ enemies have joined forces and seek _your_ presence. My wife," he ranted on, standing behind the chair he originally sat in and squeezing the wooden back so tight his knuckles whitened.

"I'm not a Stark," she whispered quietly, unsure of what else there was to say. Her mind had been reeling since reading the scroll, endless possibilities soaring through her mind. But the question at the front of her brain was - did Daenerys Targaryen _know_?

It seemed as if she was aware of something at the very least, after all, she personally requested to speak with Fianna. It couldn't have been long since her arrival to Westeros, for the North had not yet even heard of her alliances nor her reclaiming of Dragonstone. Of all the men and women in the Seven Kingdoms, Daenerys wished to speak with her - a Northern lady.

"You're as every bit Stark as our children," Robb sighed, rounding the table and lowering himself down to a knee beside her chair, taking her hand comfortingly in his.

It was then that she knew, looking into his bright, Tully blue eyes, that she could no longer lie to him. Lack of trust had been a detrimental factor in their relationship before the Red Wedding, she wasn't going to let it overcome her marriage now.

Cautiously, she eyed the children - who were still seated, blissfully unaware. Perhaps she should have told him without their presence, but she had hoped they would have eased his impending anger.

"Robb," she began, pushing her chair backwards to angle her body towards his as she gripped his hand in response. "I have to tell you something, and you're not going to like it."

"What?" He murmured, face full of distrust and concern. "Fianna... what did you do?"

"I-," she cut herself off, squeezing her eyes shut and swallowing down her fear. She had just gotten him back, and he had been looking at her with so much love, she'd hate to think that would turn to disgust. "Perhaps, Daenerys Targaryen has requested me specifically... because she knows that I am her niece."

It took a couple of seconds for any reaction to appear on his face, and even then, it was a twitch of his brows and a tilt of his head.

"What?" He pressed, looking as if he didn't quite believe her.

"Remember I told you that my grandfather - Bonifer, had sailed overseas to meet my grandmother and she had died in childbirth to bring my mother into the world?" She continued when he nodded slightly, his jaw setting firmly when he saw the direction of the story. "It turned out to be untrue. Bonifer... he-... he loved Rhaella Targaryen. They shared a romance pre-dating her marriage to the Mad King... a romance that resulted in the birth of my mother."

Robb immediately dropped her hands, leaning back slightly with his eyes narrowed in on her.

"Are you telling tales? Is this a joke of some sorts?" He questioned her, his nostrils flared as he spoke.

"It's not a joke, Robb," she shook her head as her voice dropped to a whisper, unable to tear herself away from his eyes. "He told everyone my grandmother had died to preserve my mother's status and legitimacy, instead of making her a bastard. Rhaella Targaryen is my grandmother, Rhaegar and Daenerys are my uncle and aunt."

" _Seven Hells_ , Fianna," he hissed, running his hands through his shorter curls and tugging the ends of them furiously. He stood up swiftly, turning slightly so he wasn't directly parallel to his wife, as if he were unable to look at her. "Your family _murdered_ my grandfather and uncle, and kidnapped my aunt!"

"They're not my family!" She denied, their voices raising as she stood up to follow, capturing the children's attentions. "I am a Bua, and then I am a Stark. I am not Targaryen, my mother wasn't even Targaryen!"

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" He demanded, turning around and marching forward until their faces were close together, but she wanted nothing more than to step away from him now. "Did you know the entire time I've known you?"

"No!" She yelled, "I only found out months before you returned, I would have told you-"

"Oh, would you have?" He asked sarcastically, raising his eyebrows. His tone and words caused her heart to sink in her chest.

"What do you mean?"

"You never told me things before either," he dropped his voice low, which somehow seemed so much more frightening.

"Name one time I haven't been honest with you, Robb," she replied back, her tone equally as dangerous.

"Roose Bolton," was all he had to say, and a familiar sensation of guilt and embarrassment swept up with her. _That_ letter hadn't been something she thought of in years.

"You know why I didn't tell you about that, how could you bring that up?" Her voice broke as she spoke.

"How could I _not_ mention it, Fianna? If you had told me in time, perhaps we wouldn't have gone to that wedding. Perhaps we wouldn't have been betrayed-"

"Perhaps you wouldn't have gone through what you had," she cut him off, finishing his sentence. Her eyes trailed down to avoid meeting his gaze, cheeks flushed and voice thick she succumbed to the emotions building in her. "You're right, I suppose it's all my fault."

"Fianna, wait-" he started, reaching for her arm when she turned and began to walk away. But as quickly as he reached, she shoved out of his grip, and promptly left the room, leaving her husband who was equal parts confused and angry, and their children entirely baffled.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark may as well have been dragged through Seven Hells for the past four years, as he bore the scars to prove it - physical and mental.

The gossip had been rampant around the castle about his occasional 'episodes', which often added to his frustrations and near-constant anxiety. While it was true he was residing with his wife and children, who he truly loved, the part of him that screamed out in his brain always said one thing - it's not enough.

He had been conditioned since birth to envision a life of power. King in the North had never been a particular objective of his, aside from childhood fantasies he imagined up after hearing of his family's royal history.

He was in the exact position he had been trained to fill, except the means in which he obtained it and the complications that arose as a result were, no doubt, _unexpected._

His title itself differed, labelling him the Lord of _Baelfort_ instead of Winterfell. Robb didn't regret entirely his decision to relocate to the stronghold and live out his days with his family. At the time, he had never been more sure. Baelfort had been Fianna, Aifric and Eddie's home, he would have followed them to the Free Cities and back if it meant they stayed together.

The longer he spent at the castle, however, the less sure of his decision he had become. A seed had settled within himself upon arrival, a seed that had grown until it planted roots within his mind. That seed told him he didn't belong there, that it was Fianna's land more than it was his.

He never had a problem or issue with his wife's wild nature previously, it was one of the reasons he had fallen so deeply for her to begin with. She was unconventional in almost every way, and at the time of their meeting, a Lady with land of her own regardless of marital status. He may have been the Lord now, but if they hadn't married, the land was Fianna's none the less.

The mental torture he had been trying to bleed from himself with time had only proved to reinforce a need for power in his life, for a sense of control that would make him feel less of a coward and more like a man again.

He saw the defiance flash in Fianna's eyes when he forbid her from travelling to Dragonstone, the way she had that decided she wasn't going to accept the invitation - as if it was her own decision to make regardless of his viewpoint.

Her lineage was something he would have been uncomfortable with, but would never have distanced himself from her because of. The fact she had withheld yet another important matter, however, was another issue entirely.

"I know that look," Bonifer's voice cut across the room, breaking him out of the gaze he had focused on the fire for over an hour. "That's a look that says 'a woman has got my heart and is stamping all over it'".

"You don't know what you're on about, Bonifer," Robb grumbled in return. Since his return, his grandfather in law had managed to step on every last essence of his patience. The older man was brutally honest to a fault, voicing his opinions on everything from dinner to politics. Robb felt as if Bonifer disagreed with everything just to disagree with _him_.

"I think I know more than anyone else here," he refuted, moving to sit in the chair adjacent from Robb, in front of the fire. "Fianna's a Bua, Hasty _and_ a Targaryen. Famously known as the most stubborn and fierce families in the Seven Kingdoms."

Robb decided not to answer, hoping he would eventually take the hint that he wanted to be alone.

"You and I are more alike than you think."

"I doubt that," he couldn't help reply.

"Do you? We both fell for women we shouldn't have-"

"Fianna was my betrothed," Robb denied, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"You weren't aware of the contract when you fell for her, if I am to be correct. In fact, as far as you knew, you were to be wed to a Frey daughter." A wide grin stretched over his face when Robb couldn't bring an answer to that. "You're luckier, in a sense. You were able to marry the woman you adored, to publicly claim your fondness of her and to proclaim her children as your own.

"The night terrors are rather horrific at the beginning," Robb's head snapped up at his words, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The near constant sensation that any calm moment in your life is _too_ calm, and at any second a group of raiders will come in and tear your family apart."

"How did you know that?" He pressed, wondering if Fianna had confided in her grandfather.

"It's easy to see signs you once saw in yourself," Bonifer smiled sadly. The two sat in silence for a minute, Robb mulling over his next question and trying to determine if he would appear weak by asking it.

"How did you... get rid of it? Become yourself again?"

"You don't." Just like that, any sense of hope building in Robb that this was a temporary phase in his life crumbled like a wall, he had to try desperately to keep his expression stoic and unaffected.

"But, Rhaella took some of the pain away. Before _she_ was taken away. And then all I had was the alcohol, which dulled the pain greatly but brought it back tenfold if I had the chance to sober up. Which is why I'll always have a glass of wine with my evening meal."

"But... Fianna isn't taking the pain away," an overwhelming guilt and pain washed through his body after his admittance. He felt as if his words were a betrayal, dishonourable to her as a wife and the love of his life.

"Of course she can't, you mudbrained Northerner," Bonifer snapped, an underlying amusement in your voice. "Nobody can _take_ away pain, all they can do is be there for you and allow themselves to be confided in. The only way you can help yourself is to help _yourself_."

"What do you mean?" He hissed in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Being able to confide in someone about your every fear and thought, and knowing that they care enough to listen, _that's_ what helps dull the pain. Fianna is trying to be there for you, and you can't let her. You'll never be able to grow if you don't," Bonifer stood up with his final words, placing a comforting hand on Robb's shoulder, who looked positively troubled by the revelation. "Just don't turn to alcohol. My granddaughter deserves better than an alcoholic for a husband."

* * *

 _Sansa_

The redhead trailed through the courtyard of Winterfell with a quickness to her step. Although she appeared cool and collected on the exterior, an art she had come to master for years, inside she was frazzled and frantic.

Sansa Stark hadn't been able to relax since the day before, when Jon had unveiled a scroll with a Targaryen seal that threatened his very title just by existing.

The news hadn't been taken well by the Northerners, nor had his decision to follow through with the invitation and leave for Dragonstone. The only small consolation, a rather selfish one, was that he had left Winterfell to her, trusting her with its management.

"Have you seen Lord Tiernan?" She asked a bystander, who had been tasked with shovelling hay out of the stables.

"He's just inside with his horse, my lady," the man replied, nodding with his head towards the stables. Sansa smiled in gratitude, bundling the blankets in her arm tighter to her chest as she made her way inside.

The winter winds whistled against the roof, and she welcomed the momentary break from it by venturing inside the horse stables. He was easy to spot from a distance, a mop of reddish brown hair sat atop his head, which was far higher than anyone else's from his taller height.

"Tiernan!" She blurted out, eyes widening as the sudden shout caused him to trip and topple over a bucket of water for the horse, allowing it to spill out onto the ground and soaking the hay.

He stared down at the mess beneath his feet before lifting his head to meet her eye, dragging a hand through his hair and breaking into laughter. Realising he wasn't mad at her, she couldn't help but smile as well in amusement.

" _YES_?" He yelled back, mimicking her earlier tone.

"I came to bid you farewell," she spoke softly, taking a few steps forward.

"And instead you ruined the stables," he beamed, prompting her to scoff.

"You knocked down the bucket, not me," she raised her eyebrows. He seemed surprised by her lighter mood and the way she bantered along with him, but chose not to comment on it, for fear she'd retreat back into her shell.

"I was going to seek you out anyway," he grabbed a stray cloth, wiping his hands off. "When I wouldn't have smelled like horse and had dung on my shoes."

"So, never then?" She teased, her cheeks blushing after she realised what she had said. "Why do you tend to your own horse? There are stable men who will do that for you."

"Ah," he spoke in a disagreeing tone, "a relationship between a horse and their master is a special bond. What kind of man allows others to tend to their own horses? I may as well ask them to wipe my ass while I'm at it."

She stood casually for a moment, watching as he ran a brush through his horses mane before spotting the bundle in her arms.

"What's that you've got?"

"Oh!" She called in realisation, taking a further few steps forward to get closer to him, slowly - so she could dodge the horse dung.

"I was praying in the Godswood," she began to explain, removing some of the cloths to unveil something furry in the crook of her elbow, "and I heard small yips. His mother's body lay aside his, and I couldn't possibly leave it there to perish in the snow."

She jostled the now-awake pup over into Tiernan's arms, who looked entirely awkward as he held something so small in his large arms.

"It's a wolfhound," she continued, "the sigil of your house. I thought it was a sign that it should be with you."

"I thank you for the gesture, my lady," he smiled warmly, tickling his fingers against the pups ears before taking a step towards her, his arm almost brushing against her from their proximity. "But I'd like you to keep him."

"What?" She asked in surprise, lifting her hands up as he returned the pup to her. A sharp sting of rejection hit her, which Tiernan didn't fail to pick up on.

"I want you to keep him for me, as a reminder you could say," he explained himself, easing some of the embarrassment she felt. "When you look at him, you'll think of me. I rather like the idea of that."

Sansa nodded in acceptance, clutching the wolfhound closer to her chest and casting her gaze down as he rounded her and headed towards the door.

"Wait!" She called, stopping him in his tracks. "What shall I call him?"

Tiernan stood for a second, mulling it over. His eyes drifted from the jet black fur of the pup up to Sansa's face, a small smile appearing on his lips.

"Call him Sona," he began to walk backwards, so he could keep his eyes on hers as he trailed off. "It means joy in Baelagoir. I think it's something you deserve a little more of."

* * *

 _Fianna_

"Ready, set, go!" Fianna called out, beaming brightly as she shoved her boat into the lake of water. Aifric and Eddie squeaked excitedly before following her actions with their own boats.

Two guards were positioned a few feet behind them for safety. When Fianna had been a child, doing this exact activity with her own father, she was always able to venture out to the lake directly beside Baelfort without security. But that was a different world, and Fianna and Robb didn't need to be King and Queen any more to have a target on their back.

"Mines is winning!" Eddie yelled, pointing happily as his wooden contraption streamed directly ahead of Fianna and Aifric's.

"No!" Fianna groaned childishly, clapping her hands.

She had decided to take the kids outside of the wall to play with the very same boats Tiernan, her father and herself had used in her youth, after rediscovering them in a trunk. Winter had come, and snow lay on the ground. But thankfully, the lake had not yet frozen over.

Unaware to the three of them, Robb had arrived a few minutes before, and was watching the scene unfold with a warm smile on his lips.

"Oh _Seven Hells_!" Aifric grumpily shouted when Eddie's boat had crossed the finishing point first. Fianna chuckled at how amusing the words were coming from her high, young voice.

"Who taught you how to cuss, Aifric?" Robb called out to her, full of amusement, making his presence known.

"You did, father," she replied smartly, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Despite the awkward phase in their relationship they were currently stuck in, she couldn't help but let out a laugh at Aifric's reply to Robb.

"Come on, we should be getting back," Fianna told them, gesturing for them to stand up and giggling at their protests. Fianna held out her hands for each of them to clasp onto, and together they began to walk back towards the gates of the Baelfort front wall.

Robb fell into step with her, taking hold of Eddie's free hand once they walked past him. They walked in complete silence, the tension practically palpable.

Unbeknownst to Robb, he had been so silent with her over the previous three days because he needed time to think. Think about her revelation, think about their marriage and think about the letter that started it all.

As soon as the gates were safely lowered, the twins ran off towards Grey Wind, who they saw skulking off further away, leaving their parents in silence.

"I think you should go to Dragonstone," he spoke up suddenly, capturing her completely by surprise. Her head reared around to look at him as if he had suddenly morphed into a direwolf. "I think _we_ should go to Dragonstone."

"What?" She hissed in shock, eyes wide and unsure if his words made her happy or if she even agreed.

"Daenerys is your family, and right now she's seeking approval of the remaining houses in Westeros to take down Cersei. She won't kill the woman who liberated the North and the Riverlands, her own _niece_ ," Robb gently took both of her hands as he talked, never once breaking from her gaze. "But I'm coming with you."

" _You're_ my family, Robb," she murmured, leaning in until her forehead rested against his. "You and the twins are the only family I need."

"The decision is yours to make," he remarked, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. "But whatever you choose, I will support you."

"What about the twins? We could never take them with us..."

"Bonifer has already agreed to look after them," Robb remarked, "and they have their Whet Nurses and all the guards in Baelfort. _And_ Grey Wind."

"But I could never ask you to make such a journey to a woman you already despise. Her father and brother brutalised your family," Fianna whispered, guilt overtaking her expression.

"It's as you said," he tangled his fingers through hers and brought their clasped hands up to rest on his chest. "You're my _family_. I will go wherever you go. And besides, I would like to look into the eyes of the woman who intends to usurp the Seven Kingdoms and tell her the Starks will never again trust a Targaryen."

Fianna beamed brightly, pressing her lips to his in a prolonged kiss. Their problems hadn't vanished or dissipated, but it was a start.

* * *

 **I'll admit, I really struggled with writing this chapter and had fully debated giving up on the story altogether. It took two/three weeks to get back into the swing of it after the previous chapter because I quite simply thought everyone hated this book and that broke my heart. This was always something that was just a fun pastime, and I thoroughly enjoyed creating a little world of Robb and Fianna as Robb was my favourite character in GoT and I wanted more of him and to give him a wife I thought he deserved. I quite liked the direction the book had gone after they reunited, and I thought that readers who read the book before and trusted me when they were unsure of my decisions would trust me again (like when Fianna left Robb's camp only to return with Arya), but there was a lot of pessimistic comments under the previous chapter I had completely given up, because although this book was something fun for me to do, it wasn't fun any more. It left me feeling completely crap.**

 **So I'd just like to say that (unless it's the end of the book), don't hate me for making decisions that aren't final. Robb and Fianna returning to Baelfort was not the end of the book, nobody has any idea of the ending except me.**

 **Sorry for the rather negative author's note, I have always valued reader input and constructive criticism but commenting things like "your OC is fucking useless" isn't helping anyone. If you don't like this book just don't bother reading it.**

 **Guest - I'm really glad you like that I'm placing emphasis on how they've changed! It's just not realistic that they go back to being happy as if the past three/four years didn't happen and weren't so horrible. Oh believe me, I'll be 100% straying from canon. I completely agree that Jon/Dany felt so forced, and I have a plan for how I intend to handle that 'relationship'. I just hope my season 7 ending doesn't completely fuck up season 8 when it comes out!**

 **Guest - A lot of people have said that Robb should rule Winterfell and not Baelfort as he's the firstborn, but it's not the first time GoT has done this. Look at the Baratheons for example, Stannis was the eldest yet he was given Dragonstone, a completely separate House, and Renly the youngest brother was given their ancestral home. So for a while, there was House Baratheon of King's Landing, Storm's End and Dragonstone. Doesn't really make House Stark of Winterfell and Baelfort seem all that weird now, does it?**

 **-Line - Thanks so much that means the world 3**

 **starevolution1273 - Fianna and Robb DEFINITELY need Dr Phil. I sense a crossover chapter happening ahaha. Thanks so much for reviewing as always and I hope you have an absolutely brilliant day x**

 **SternAmBauch - Read it in a single go? Wow that's amazing! This book has gotten so long even I couldn't sit through reading it all! So happy that you approve of the approach I'm taking to dealing with Robb's mental health, I agree it's glossed over a lot in other fics and a simple happy ending where he's fine upon seeing his wife is just... blahhh. I absolutely love how you think so positively of Tiernan and Sansa, I've waited so long to be able to write their interactions, I don't think Sansa will meet anyone in season 8 and I really think she deserves to be treated well by someone, and Tiernan is the character who would do that. This review has been so pleasant to read, thank you so so much x**

 **LCluvanime - Unfortunately, yes! When I finish writing the events of season 7, I'll have to put this book on hiatus until season 8! I think I've estimated around five chapters left until then, so cherish them while you can! ;_;**

 **Scoob96 - In fairness, Robb and Fianna had multiple chapters of pure fluff prior to that. That chapter began weeks after their reunion, where the excitement had worn off and Robb's issues had begun to show. Fianna isn't mad because he has PTSD, she simply doesn't understand that's the reason behind his actions. Her father had kept that side of himself mostly hidden from her as she was only a child when he went through it. She is struggling, and that's why I touched on it further in this chapter with Bonifer because medicine and counselling doesn't exist in GoT, and like Bonifer said, people can't just take away the pain by existing. The only way he can help is trying to open up more and dealing with his problems head on. I have told you previously that Robb would grow to resent his decision a little to abdicate, and I have touched on it in this chapter. Without spoiling anything, all I can tell you is that Robb's story isn't done and this isn't permanent. Sure they could have moved back to Winterfell, but like I said - Robb didn't care at the time where he moved as long as he was with Fianna and the children. They couldn't just leave Baelfort abandoned, because when they married it became HIS land as well. The houses in the Riverlands, more specifically Edmure Tully, pledged allegiance to Fianna when she took down the Twins. Therefore, their allegiance is to the King in the North.**

 **Padfootette - a little late but here's an update, I hope you liked it! x**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thanks so much! I hope you liked this chapter and what's to come! xx**


	52. (LI) Seasick

_Song: Whatever It Takes by Imagine Dragons_

 _Fianna_

"Seven Hells, woman," Bonifer sounded out, tapping her on the shoulder hurriedly. "Unless you're taking them with you, let go of them before you end up choking them."

Fianna Stark ignored his words, refusing to let go of both of her children as she had each of her arms wrapped around them, their small heads buried into her neck.

"Come on, love," Robb spoke soothingly, crouching down to place his hand on her back, although he was just as reluctant to leave and had his own prolonged embrace just before her.

Fianna finally let up, letting go of the two who were entirely confused by their parents actions.

"Mama?" Aifric asked in a worried voice, nearly breaking Fianna's heart in two. Each time she left them, it got harder and harder. Once again, she was glad that she had abdicated her crown, or else these departures would become more frequent.

"We'll be back soon, little ones, I promise," Robb answered when Fianna remained silent, placing his arm around Fianna's waist to guide her away towards their waiting horses.

"It's not right," she whispered to him when they were further away, shaking her head softly.

"I know," was all he could say, agreeing completely. Robb wondered who it hurt more, himself or his wife. Apparently, the first time leaving was the hardest.

"We can't stay away too long," he continued, catching her attention as she hauled herself up and mounted her horse.

"We won't," she agreed. "If we ride fast, we could arrive at Dragonstone within two weeks. We listen to what she has to say, inevitably refuse to bend the knee and run like seven hells out of there before she sets us alight."

Despite her grim words, he couldn't help but smile softly over at her from the back of his own horse. There wasn't anyone else in the world he'd have went to Dragonstone for other than Fianna, it was all he could do to hope that his love for her wouldn't be his downfall, as it had before.

* * *

"What did he say this was?" Robb's face was pale as he turned the thick, frothy soup over with a spoon, looking as if he were about to vomit.

"Pig's feet stew," Fianna muttered, having long abandoned the concoction after it had been placed in front of her. She had since pushed away the bowl to the side and was looking around at the other customers in the Inn. Simultaneously, she remained inconspicuous underneath a black hood.

Robb and Fianna sat alone, their small party of guards spread out across the tavern and without bearing any House sigil to avoid raising suspicion. The last thing they needed was an enemy getting wind that Robb and Fianna were away from home for Baelfort to be attacked.

"I once ate a half cooked rabbit after I left the Dreadfort, and even that was less dreadful than this," he sighed, dropping the wooden spoon back into the bowl. The dinner was customary with the fee they paid to stay the night, but a customary meal didn't always mean an edible one.

"I can honestly say it was worse than childbirth," Fianna joked with an eyebrow raised, "and my babes were Starks so you can just imagine."

Robb smirked in amusement, "and with a Bua mother, especially, I'd imagine they were painful to deal with."

"Alright, alright," Fianna rolled her eyes and chuckled, "at least my ancestor didn't bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen."

"No, because being burnt to death on top of your own wall was a much preferable ordeal."

Fianna narrowed her eyes, but couldn't help the burst of laughter that came from her after a moment.

The rest of their time in the eating area was spent with much the same, playfully bantering and discussing the impending journey at great length. As time stretched, the ale continued to flow between their lips and their cups and with their growing intoxication, the laughter increased.

It was easy, and for once they weren't plagued with the underlying issues in their marriage. They weren't the former King and Queen, or a Lord and Lady. They were simply Robb and Fianna.

But alas, all tranquility must end. And theirs was brought to a conclusion when a boisterous man in the table over had become loud enough for the two to hear.

"So I said to the whore, I'm no coward, I simply don't want to fuck ya!" He was explaining, the vulgarity of his words catching their attention. "She accused me of pulling a _Robb Stark_ , said I was backing down like a coward. But I just told her it was because the only teeth she had in her head were mine when my tongue was down her throat!"

The men around him burst into laughter, as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard. But Robb and Fianna were far from amused, disgusted was a suitable term to match their emotions. Accompanying that disgust, Robb felt something he hadn't felt in a while, the creeping sensation of humiliation clawing at him made his skin itch and his neck redden.

His eyes fell to the table before him, refusing to look up in case anyone should recognise him. To another woman, Robb would look defeated. But Fianna noticed the clench in his fists and the tightness in his jaw. This was _anger_.

"Robb-" she began, reaching her hand forward to try and soothe him.

"Don't," he cut her off, giving a small shake of his head.

Fianna knew there were many who disagreed with their decision to abdicate, and while she had struggled with adjusting from the change in power, she didn't think she truly regretted it. But looking at her husband now, she wasn't so sure that was something mutual between them.

"Give us another flagon of ale there, love," the same man shouted, all but slapping a passing waitress on her bottom. Robb flinched at the action, and like a horse being clapped on the behind, he set off.

"Only the lowest of bastards would treat a woman with such disrespect," he shot up from his seat, causing Fianna to jump and the entire tavern to quieten. Nervously, her eyes darted between her husband and the man, praying to all the gods, that she could remember the name of, that Robb wouldn't be recognised.

"You've got a lot of nerve calling me a bastard, _boy_ ," the older man spat on the ground after a moments silence, having fully realised that he actually _was_ being openly challenged and insulted.

"Don't call me boy, again," Robb warned him, lifting his legs out of the seat on the table to fully face him. He sneered at Robb's confidence, standing up to meet him full on with a snarl on his lips.

"Go back to petting your whore, _boy_ , or else I'll give you the spanking your useless father never did," he grumbled, looking all the more dangerous despite probably being twice Robb's age.

"Oh for fuck sakes," Fianna muttered to herself, standing up from the table in preparation for what was surely about to happen.

For even if she weren't his wife, no man would ever walk away from Robb Stark unscathed after insulting his wife, his father and himself all in one sentence.

Sure enough, Robb fake chuckled. Empowered by the fact the man clearly did not recognise him, thus being able to throw all the formalities and Stark nobilities instilled into him since birth out the window.

Robb shot his hand behind him, reaching for his cup of ale and swinging it around to connect with the side of his head with a sickening thud.

Everyone in the room reacted in some form another. Innocent bystanders gasped in shock. Stark guards shot up from their seats, hands poised over their swords in case the man should retaliate. The men originally seated with the being underneath Robb's hand stood to retaliate. And Fianna reached for the bowl of pig's feet stew, launching it through the air to connect with the closest man who had taken a step toward Robb.

Like a chain reaction, Stark guards flooded forward and began to fight the group of men. Robb's opponent had recovered from the swing and was now attempting to lay a punch on Robb. But as broken as his psyche may have been, Robb's physical state was at its current pique. Fianna was stuck right in the middle of the brawl, her heart racing with adrenaline and excitement as she exercised her war-tested movements against the group, easily overpowering them despite her size.

It was increasingly clear that the group were neither mercenaries nor soldiers, and for that reason, a decision was made to let them leave with their limbs and lives intact. As beaten as they were, the group refused to give in and fought until it was the Starks that left, if nothing other than to save lives.

Fianna and Robb grasped their pained and bloodied hands together as they scurried upstairs towards their assigned room, panting heavily from the exertion. They didn't stop moving until they were safely behind the locked door, breaking into a howl of laughter when it had shut.

"Oh my god, that was amazing, those men were _not_ prepared for that," she beamed, her perfectly braided hair now dishevelled. Robb's grin faded as his fingers reached up and skirted over a darkened red spot on her cheek that would surely bruise by morning. She hadn't escaped unscathed, it appeared.

"I guess it's what we're best at, isn't it?" His smile was more saddened than amused, and she tried desperately to bring him back around.

"Starting a war? I agree."

"He wasn't wrong," Robb's words caused her eyebrows to furrow.

"Excuse me? What he did to that girl was, by no means, excusable or justified!"

"Not that," Robb shook his head, leaning his shoulder against the doorway like she had done. "What he said about me, I am a coward. I abandoned my people when they needed me the most."

"Y-you... no you didn't," she stuttered, shocked by what she was hearing. "You made a good decision. _We_ made a good decision, there was no way we could have stopped the army of the undead, Jon knew how to-"

"Jon could have been named my Hand. He would have accepted the position with honour," Robb refuted. "I was so blinded by my pain and my need to see our children that I... I don't think I made the right decision, Fianna."

She was silent for a few seconds, processing what he was saying as her eyes began to water.

"What do you mean? You didn't want this life for our children, you wanted to come back to Baelfort and be a Lord!"

"I wanted to be with you and our kids," he admitted. "But I didn't want to go to Baelfort. I didn't realise that fully until now, so I don't blame you for taking me there, when I would have gone _anywhere_ for you."

"But..." she began in a whisper, cupping his cheek pleadingly. "You told me you were in no state of mind to be King... you told me that yourself the night before we abdicated."

"I know," he sighed, copying her action by placing his own hand on her opposing cheek, bringing her forehead forward to rest on his. "But all I wanted was my family. Baelfort may be your home, Fianna. But it's not mine. My _family_ is my home. All I needed when I was at my worst was you, our kids and the _rest_ of my family. For the gods sake, I had just gotten Arya, Sansa, Rickon and Jon back and I left them again two weeks later."

"So... you're saying you..." she could barely bring herself to say the words, her mind reeling with guilt and shame.

In truth, she hadn't realised Robb was feeling this way. Now that she was being told, she saw that she shared a similar sentiment with him. Their home was with their family, and even though she had spent her life there, Baelfort was not explicitly where her family was any more. For that was what the rest of the Starks had become - family.

So she decided to sacrifice a piece of herself for the good of her husband and the good of her marriage, after Robb had sacrificed so much of himself for her.

"Okay," she smiled encouragingly, warmed by the confused look on his face. "Let's move home. To Winterfell."

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark was half-Tully. He even bore their signature red hair and blue eyes. The entire Tully family was centred around a general theme of water - their ancestral home was named _River_ run, their house sigil was a fish.

Despite all of that, Robb had come to discover something on the final leg of his travel to Dragonstone.

He was _terrible_ when travelling on a boat.

He grumbled into the wooden side of the boat at the sound of Fianna's quiet laughter behind him, feeling her hands shake with her chuckles as she gently stroked his curls back from his face. He had just gotten sick for the third time since they had left shore, and was altogether embarrassed and annoyed about the ordeal.

He was a Tully, a man and a _Lord._ Simple things such as sea travel shouldn't be bowling him over.

When he finally saw land in the distance, he prayed to the Old Gods and the New that the oars would push faster through the water to get him there quicker.

"We're almost there," Fianna began, running one hand over his back. "Raise our banner so they know who it is."

"This is a sign from the Gods, this trip is a mistake," Robb groaned from his position.

"I could have told you that, and I'm no God," she spoke cryptically, her focus set on the impending island.

It wasn't long before they arrived -but to Robb it felt like hours. The guards accompanying them exited the boat swiftly and offered a hand to help Fianna down onto the shore, soaking the bottom of her dress as they pulled the boat inland.

Robb and Fianna's eyes scraped over the large stronghold, probably twice the size of Baelfort in totality. An eerie feeling overwhelmed them, and a sensation of dread creeped up their spine simultaneously. The Targaryens were mortal enemies of both House Stark and House Bua, and yet here they were.

A small party of people flocked down the steps to reach them, three individuals in particular standing out amongst the rest. The first, a woman with a gorgeously darkened skin tone and a large wisp of brown hair atop her head. She was exotic looking compared to the cold faces of the Northerners, which intrigued Fianna. The next she looked upon was the dwarf walking alongside her - Tyrion Lannister, she could hazard a guess. The final notable figure was one Robb hadn't taken his eyes off of since noticing, making his way towards them as if he were a native to the island.

"Welcome-" the woman began, but before she could even truly start, Robb was interrupting.

"What are you doing here?" He grit his teeth, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at his half-brother, who shrank under his glare. Fianna tensed, wondering the same herself.

"Calm down, my Lord, Jon Snow received a letter just as your Lady wife did. Only he arrived more promptly," Tyrion spoke as if he were one step ahead of everyone else, a teasing undertone to his words.

"I can't imagine anyone with half a mind would be too _eager_ to meet a woman who so closely resembles Aegon the Conqueror. Then again, I suppose with centuries of inbreeding they are closely matched," Fianna's words were harsh, and Robb bit his cheek to conceal the rising smirk.

Her words alerted the guards behind the trio in front, who reached for the weapons they had clasped to their waist in preparation. The woman calmly held her hand out for them to stand down, an awkward expression on her face.

"They do not take too kindly to people insulting their Queen," she explained, prompting Fianna to raise an eyebrow. "My name is Missandei, if you'd like to follow me, please. Our Queen is most excited to meet with you."

The second she finished speaking, a screech ripped through the skies above, accompanied by a whoosh of air. Robb, the Stark men and Jon ducked instinctively. But the others, including Fianna, stayed unflinchingly. Her head tilted back to stare up in wonderment at the winged beast that soared majestically through the heavens above. Suddenly, she was reminded of the vivid dream she had after birthing the twins. Of a dragon trailing through the sky, taking her eyes away from her children.

"Follow me," Missandei repeated, smiling again at the fearful men. Particularly at Jon, who was still unaccustomed to the dragons despite having been at Dragonstone for a week.

"Why would you accept her invitation?" Robb whisper-shouted to Jon as they climbed the stairs, thankfully a few steps behind the Targaryen group.

"Why would Fianna accept it?" Jon answered in a cool tone, causing Robb to internally groan. Fianna's heritage was a secret he swore to keep, even if that meant withholding it from his brother.

"Fianna isn't the Queen any more, you put the North at risk by coming here. What if it had been a trap? Do you not remember what happened our grandfather after he last visited a Targaryen?" Robb continued, a crease between his eyebrows.

"Dragonstone lays on top of a mountain of dragon glass, which we _need_ to harvest to kill the white walkers. I am not here for politics, I'm here to ask for her help," Jon explained, but Robb still wasn't convinced. Since the second he arrived his body was on high alert, and Jon's revelation caused him to feel as if he was portraying the North as _weak_ to a potential enemy.

Daenerys was here to conquer the Seven Kingdoms - the North was one of those kingdoms.

Jon lingered behind and allowed Fianna and Robb to enter the great hall, the former of the two freezing immediately upon laying eyes on the blonde figure seated at the opposite end, as still as a statue.

Robb paused as she did, eyes darting back and forth between the two and wondering what Fianna was feeling. She had tried so desperately to ignore this part of her lineage, but now she was facing down the only surviving female relative she had, excluding her daughter. He never stopped to think that perhaps Fianna _wanted_ to know Daenerys.

He slid his hand into hers, clutching it tightly to encourage her. The gesture caused her eyes to flick towards his, grey irises cloudy with emotion. His reassuring gaze encouraged her to continue forward until they were feet away from the stone throne, which looked the farthest thing from comfortable. But Robb supposed, nothing about Daenerys Targaryen looked comfortable.

She looked every bit as Targaryen as the books read - with pale hair and light eyes, skin as snowy as the Northern grounds despite spending her life overseas. There was a coldness to her, Robb thought, which was ironic considering everything about the Targaryen family screamed _Fire and Blood_.

When Fianna stopped, Robb decidedly took a few steps back to allow the two women to discuss what was needed. Daenerys rose slowly, hands clasped in front of her, but remained physically elevated above Fianna on the steps leading to her throne. He wondered briefly if she enjoyed being higher than others, if it filled her with a sense of satisfaction.

"Fianna Bua," she began, her warm tone contradicting her originally cold appearance as the slightest of smiles stretched the corners of her lips. "I have been waiting quite a while to meet you."

* * *

 _ **Hi again! Sorry for the short delay in posting, my life has been absolutely hectic and I was dreading writing this chapter because I thought it would be boring but I actually like how it turned out, I feel like it's very Robb-centric and I like how equal this book is becoming again after Fianna was the central character for the longest time.  
**_

 _ **They're also going to live back at Winterfell! I'm sure everyone will be like "wtf is gonna happen to baelfort" "what about sansa as lady of winterfell" but this will all be answered in due course! I've shown Robb's struggle with feeling powerless in the last few chapters and I think moving them to Winterfell will be a good way to re-establish his character and help in his recovery. If you'll remember a chapter a loooooong time ago when Fianna and Robb were engaged to be married, they discussed Baelfort and decided that Tiernan should have been the one to take it over. Fianna's reign in Baelfort was simply because she tried to regain power after returning from the Red Wedding, and it's long overdue. I hope nobody thinks I'm undermining her as a strong female character, but let's be honest Fianna has done literally whatever the f she wants this entire book hahaha.**_

 _ **Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed the previous chapter 3**_

 _ **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thanks so much! Thank you for being so supportive all the time as well it means the world x**_

 _ **angelicedg - Thank YOU for commenting! I needed a little muse break I think, I don't often take them but i'd rather take a small term break than produce shit chapters x**_

 _ **TheKingInTheNorthLives - Love your username by the way, that's so heartwarming to hear that it's one of your favourite stories! Thank you so much and have a great day 3**_

 _ **willow441988 - I definitely won't stop this book, i've come too far to give up on these characters now! Thank you soooo much you are so kind! I'm also glad you like Tiernan and Sansa I didn't want that to come across as weird or left-field or anything, thank you again x  
**_

 _ **starevolution1273 - Actually not even! This person read the first three chapters or something like... there's 51 chapters and they chose to judge the entire book on the first three that were wrote a year ago? You have always been such a supportive reader and I always look forward to reading your comments and opinions, you're an absolute sweetie I hope you have a great day! Until next time 3**_

 _ **Guest - I'm lowkey so happy you prefer their homelife chapters to big events like meeting Daenerys, I thought for sure those chapters would bore everyooooone so this was so nice to read! Thank you kindly and I hope you enjoyed this chapter xx**_

 _ **Emily01111 - Thanks for reviewing! I hope you liked this one x**_

 _ **Guest - They do have the Stark banners currently, but of course that's about to change when they leave Baelfort. I think as well as realising what's best for Robb, Fianna knows it's not right to stay in Baelfort when it shouldn't belong to her any more. Right? Well don't worry, Robb isn't going to be as lenient as Jon was with Dany! All I will say is this, this book isn't over yet and I think you'll like what's to come ;)**_

 _ **Guest - Thank you so so much for your support! I'm definitely going to finish their story, I've spent a year on these characters I can't let them go without ending the book properly!**_

 _ **Guest - You have been there for over half the book, i always trust your opinions and really appreciate your support 3 Definitely! I'm debating writing an extra chapter inside my Extras book for Tiernan and Sansa and their time in Winterfell before he returns to Riverrun. I was looking forward to writing that hah! I hope this chapter lived up to your expectations xx**_

 _ **Padfootette - And I love you for saying that!**_

 _ **Lauren - Ahhhh your excitement makes me excited! I hope you like what's to come 3**_

 _ **Alice Williams - I did what I thought was best for Robb and Fianna at the time, and I had fully intended for Robb to become uncomfortable with feeling powerless in Baelfort and to want to return to Winterfell but I feel like people jump to conclusions a lot on my book, like literally nothing in this book is final UNTIL the final chapter. And then everyone can be mad/happy at that! Thank you so much for realising I'm trying to be realistic, Robb isnt the same Robb from the show any more and he wouldn't be if he survived the Red Wedding either, i don't think it's fair for people to blame my writing for that aha. But anyways, thanks so much your comment really made me smile. Have a wonderful day! xx**_


	53. (LII) Familiar Familials

_Song: See You For What You Are by Ramin Djawadi_

 _Fianna_

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms-"

"Five," Robb cut off Missandei's declaration, startling her into silence and causing Fianna's mouth to lift in the slightest of smiles.

"My lord," the foreign girl began again, face twisted in confusion. "Daenerys Targaryen is the heir to the _Seven_ Kingdoms."

"The North and the Riverlands will never again fall under Targaryen rule," he stepped forward until he was by Fianna's side, a furious glint in his eye. "And if that is why you have brought us here, to gloat your titles with false claims, we will be leaving promptly."

"I can assure you, it is not," Daenerys spoke finally, appearing somewhat amused by Robb's defiance. She was told Northerners were the hardest to control, and if it were, Robb Stark was the belligerent head of the family.

"Then why have you invited me?" Fianna demanded, her jaw stiff with how uncomfortable the situation truly was.

The blonde Queen pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow as she stepped down from the small stairs leading to her seat. Immediately, the guards around her tensed, uncomfortable with her proximity to the Stark Lord who so clearly distrusted her. But she waved a hand to qualm them.

"I've heard stories as far as the Land Overseas about you, Fianna Bua," she started, only stopping her stride when she was right in front of her, a mere foot away. "It intrigued me. The stories of a Mad Queen who was undefeated in battle. Never did I question how truly brilliant the mind of that Northern Lady must have been. So, with that, I should hazard a guess that you know exactly why I called upon you."

"Well," Fianna swallowed harshly, formulating a response in her mind that wouldn't give herself away. "I can't imagine a Queen with three dragons and several armies has any interest in what my mind has to offer."

"And what of a familial bond?" She outright asked, exposing the subject they had been dancing around tensely. Fianna couldn't bring herself to answer right away, simply staring in silence.

She had always longed in a family full of boys for a girl to bond with. But that was before she had married Robb, and had gained two sisters with that marriage.

"I wasn't sure at first, I only knew of my mother's love for your grandfather, but now that I see you..." Daenerys broke off, her emotional appearance conflicting Fianna. Surely, a future Usurper, and a Targaryen at that, wouldn't be so affected upon meeting a mere niece?

"Well," Daenerys exhaled with a nod, "now that I see you, I feel certain."

"I..." she broke off, fully aware of her staring husband beside her but feeling completely unable to lift her eyes from Daenerys. "I know."

"So it is true?" She pleaded for reassurance.

"It's true," Fianna whispered, grey eyes meeting blue. Movement caught her peripheral vision, and she looked down to see that Daenerys was offering a hand to her - the only greeting the relatives felt comfortable with, given their estrangement.

Nervously, she lifted her hand and wrapped it around Daenerys forearm.

"I had spent my life with my brother, never knowing anyone else in my family, until now. My brother is gone, but my niece lives on," she smiled wistfully, the statement feeling slightly odd given that Fianna was almost the same age as Daenerys, only but a year younger.

"I have the strangest sensation that I know you from somewhere," Fianna breathed a chuckle, blinking rapidly and looking away from her piercing stare. But she couldn't deny the feeling, _surely_ she had met her before.

Robb had been silent for the duration of the meeting, for Fianna's sake instead of respect. He couldn't deny that his sudden proximity allowed him to see aspects of Daenerys that were present in Fianna. At first glance, they couldn't look more different, with Fianna's unruly dark curls contrasting against Daenerys' neatly fastened blonde locks. But the similarities were there, surely. With the set of their jaw, the curve of their upper lip and the fierceness of their eyes, it was entirely believable that they were related.

But as he watched as Fianna's resolve started to melt upon meeting her, his remained unwavering. Family or not, Daenerys simply couldn't be trusted. She had come to Westeros to conquer the Seven Kingdoms, much like Aegon had. He would not allow Jon to be Torrhen.

* * *

They walked side by side along the cliff of Dragonstone, and although Daenerys was eager to converse with her, Fianna was reluctant. It was physically obvious which of the two was more interested in talking, judging by their body contact.

As Daenerys talked more, Fianna got a sense that the girl had nothing other to talk about than her triumphs, from the past to the future. Never once did she speak of a lover, nor even a friend, or a simple anecdote of her life spent overseas that was not followed by someone burning to death.

She wondered if the Queen's mannerisms were traits she had developed across the Narrow Sea, or if it were simply because her main, and only, goal was to conquer Westeros.

Admittedly, the brunette Northerner began to zone out mentally from the conversation as Daenerys continued on with the story of her dragons hatching - born upon fire and sacrifice. She imagined it would have been a tale fit for a wondrous child, or a nosy handmaiden - but not Fianna. A former Queen herself, who had more than enough stories of her own.

A screech roared through the skies, as if on cue, as soon as Daenerys finished the recap. The two stopped at the edge of the cliff to simply watch the majestic creatures soar. As mistrustful as she was, Fianna couldn't help but admit what truly beautiful creatures they were. She could only hope their destructive rampage wouldn't be unleashed upon her loved ones.

"I named them after the men in my life," Daenerys began wistfully, staring proudly with her head tilted back. "Drogon after Drogo, Viserion after Viserys and Rhaegon after Rhaegar."

"I must admit," Fianna smiled falsely, "from the stories, neither man sounds honourable enough to deserve a dedication."

The slight smile Daenerys had worn dimmed immediately, followed by a firm set to her lips.

"Not all of us were lucky enough to be blessed with a sane father and a betrothal that was to be desired," she deadpanned.

"I never understood why Targaryens like to fasten themselves as unlucky for their madness," she replied in an equal tone, "as if it hadn't become increasingly obvious over the years the inbreeding played a part."

"You would do well to watch your tongue, Lady Fianna," her voice was tight, full of restraint. "Do not overestimate the kindness I offer to you as a platform to insult my- _our_ family."

"They are not my family," Fianna muttered, neither girl looking at the other. It was silent for a few moments, and Fianna had silently thanked herself for the daggers holstered onto her thighs and ankles - a knack she had learned was useful from the Red Wedding.

"Are you sure?" She smirked suddenly. "You remind me so much of Viserys." Her comment caught Fianna's attention, who's head whipped around to look at her, eyes full of confusion and offence. "Viserys was a fool, it was true, and you may not be. But he knew what he wanted and what his views were, and not a woman alive could have swayed those beliefs or his will."

Fianna never answered her explanation, and after a few more moments, they eventually moved away from their spot to walk again, where conversation was renewed.

"How can you be so sure you can trust a Lannister?" Fianna questioned.

"Worried for my counsel, are you, niece?" Daenerys smiled softly. "Tyrion has proven his loyalty time and time again, he has no reason to honour his family and knows full well the extent of their cruelty."

"I'm merely concerned for how many Lannisters in Westeros will maintain positions of power. He's a Lannister, blood is alway thicker than water," she argued.

"It is indeed, and you have sided with the Starks, over your own blood." This time, the walk stopped so Fianna could whirl around and face her.

"That is _enough_. We may share blood through Rhaella, but you are not my family. I was born a Bua, and I became a Stark. I was never Fianna _Targaryen_. Do not think for one second that the the long-running hatred between your family and mine settled the second Aifric burned. I will always choose the Buas and the Starks before the Targaryens, so if you brought me here to gain an ally, you will be disappointed."

By the time Fianna finished her rant, her cheeks were flushed. Daenerys' expression was unreadable, her mouth set in a thin line and eyes dead set on Fianna's.

The brunette made a mental note to stop threatening the Mad King's daughter with no army except her own surrounding her, on an island with three dragons.

The atmosphere was tense, and for a second it was as if Fianna was a Queen again, facing down another, both from equal positions of power.

Movement in the corner of their eyes caught their attention, as well as the heavy thuds of large feet slapping onto the ground. The two women looked over to see Viserion, perched on a clearing at the top of the cliff and letting out a roar through his craned neck.

Compelled by the sheer size and strangeness of the creature, Fianna began to make her way slowly towards him, with Daenerys at her heels. The blonde watched intently - Viserion, like his namesake, was a rather shifty dragon, who's mood could flip any second and take form in the devouring of Fianna Stark.

As she neared, she walked slower and slower until she was a couple of feet from the dragons head, staring transfixed. A couple of moments had passed before anyone spoke again.

"You can try to touch him, Drogon let Jon and he doesn't even have Valyrian blood," she encouraged quietly, eager to see the reaction. It was well known that dragons could only have one rider, a rider that must have the blood of Old Valyria.

Fianna turned to look at Daenerys, visibly debating with herself over her next move. Despite the encouragement, she knew exactly what it meant if Viserion let her touch him. That she was more Targaryen that she thought, or wanted. That thought alone was far scarier to her than the other potential reaction, which was he would simply open his mouth and burn her to a crisp.

The red-tinged dragon fixed his gaze intently on her, low grumbles of warning rumbling through his massive mouth, that could easily swallow her whole. Despite the fierceness in his eyes, and the threat his teeth posed, Fianna couldn't stop the nagging urge within her to reach out nonetheless. Just to see.

Almost involuntarily, her hand rose from her side, and that was when she noticed her fingers had the slightest shake. They stretched out towards his nose ever so carefully, mindful that quick movements may set him off. As she neared, Viserion's grumbling lowered, and he even leaned his head toward her hand. As if he were waiting to be touched.

But alas, the fear of the unknown became too great.

Fianna dropped her hand back down to her side, her gaze falling to look at the ground as she swiftly turned away to head back inside.

* * *

 _Robb_

The cool sea winds whipped through his reddened curls fiercely, but his eyes did not wade from the scene happening below.

Stood next to Jon, the half-brothers watched the exchange silently. Despite being far from the setting, they still felt the tension build as Fianna's hand reached up, prepared to stroke the dragon. Jon had taken note of his brothers clenched fist and the worrying crease between his brows, and decided not to mention he himself had faced off with the biggest of the three beasts.

"I've never seen you like this," he remarked, taking Robb's focus away.

"Like what?" Robb asked, turning his head to look back again.

"Fretting over a girl," Jon smirked, "back in Winterfell you never chased anyone, it was always the girls chasing you."

"You'll understand when you fall in love with a woman, Jon," Robb visibly deflated with relief when Fianna's hand dropped and her body turned to walk away. The implications of what a dragon bond would mean for her were implicit enough, but he was far more worried about the fact she was in close proximity to a winged monster.

"I already understand, Robb," he admitted, a reminiscent smile curling up the corners of his lips.

"Eh?" He gave him his full attention, beaming with amusement. "Who is the poor girl then? Or is it poor man? You did spend a good bit of time in Castle Black."

"I think you mean who _was_ the poor girl," Jon corrected, his tone thick with underlying emotion. Robb's grin faltered immediately, falling into a sympathetic one as he clapped his hand on Jon's shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm sorry, brother."

"Not that much of it matters anyway," Jon scrunched his nose, playing it off, "when the Army of the Dead come we'll all be a little too dead to love anyone, anyway."

"How will you convince her to help?" Robb dared to question.

"She already has been convinced," he raised his eyebrows, catching Robb's surprise, " _if_ I bend the knee."

"Well that's settled then," Robb announced, elaborating when Jon raised an eyebrow questioningly, "we're all going to die."

"We may all die anyway," Jon shook his head. "Before you arrived, Daenerys took a single dragon and wiped out Jaime Lannister's fleet."

"Well, what do you know. I may like her after all."

"You don't think it was a cruel, _merciless_ and unfair act of war?" Jon bristled.

"No less cruel, merciless or unfair than orchestrating an attack on unarmed men and woman at a wedding," Robb fired back, his eyes unforgiving.

It was silent then, until a shape on the water below the causeway they stood upon caught their sight.

"Who is that?" Robb asked curiously, trailing down the steep hill to get a closer look near the beach. It was small, a mere rowboat with several men inside, having come from a larger ship in the middle of the water. Jon followed after him, the two men heading towards the beach where the boat was heading to dock.

As the boat neared closer, the sails became increasingly obvious as Robb became increasingly quiet.

"Is that a Greyjoy ship?" Jon tensed, eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Robb answered drily, picking up the pace as he, Jon, a few Dothraki soldiers and Missandei headed toward the beach to 'greet' the boat.

Robb barely blinked upon reaching the sand, his eyes scanning each individual as they dragged the boat inland, waiting for the slightest indication that his childhood friend was one of them.

In what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes, the boat was dragged onto land and firmly set. Immediately thereafter, Jon froze at the sight of the man at the front, who had just turned around.

Robb grit his teeth so hard he was sure one would crack, memories running through his mind like the hooves of a sprinting horses feet. Flashes of a time he had preferred to shut out.

Theon hadn't changed much, except for the fearful gaze on his face. If there was one thing Theon never showed Jon and Robb during their youth - it was what he looked like when he was scared. His face was paler than the sky, posture as tense as wound string.

"Robb?" He forced out after neither Robb nor Jon said anything. "I didn't... I didn't know you escaped."

Those words broke through the ice encasing Robb's body, propelling him forward in a speed walk and heading straight for Theon's collar, his hands wrapping around it fiercely and dragging him forward for closeness.

"Give me one good reason I don't kill you wear you stand, you traitor," his voice spoke lowly, but deadly.

Theon's mouth gaped like a fish, trying to formulate words. He was a mere shadow of the man he used to be, perhaps that was why his next words convinced Robb to drop his grip.

"B-because I was taken by them, too."

Robb took a step back, a sneer on his face as he did so.

"You were taken _after_ you abandoned us and tried to take over the North. Tried to take over my _home_. Tried to kill my _brothers_."

"I know," he gulped nervously, eyes flicking down to face the ground, "I deserved to die for it."

"I would rather you did die than go through torture at the Boltons hands," Robb admitted, a moment of weakness shining. With that, he turned to leave, hearing him ask Jon about Sansa in his wake.

* * *

Daenerys had called for a meeting, but Robb and Fianna didn't care to make haste. They were seated on a large boulder, overlooking the sea and the cold, grey sky ahead.

"I'm shocked you didn't kill him on sight," Fianna commented after he relayed the tale of his encounter with Theon.

"Nothing I could do to Theon Greyjoy would be worse than what he's already been through," he replied, posture stiff and expression troubled. His old friend had served as a reminder of his own time with the Boltons, and it was clearly affecting him.

Fianna had began to notice that some days were worse than others for Robb. There were days he would appear strong, full of conversation. Others, he was withdrawn, only replying when spoken to directly. He had told her his days sometimes depended on the dreams he had the night before, other times, he simply couldn't control his emotions.

All she could do was listen to him and be there, and hope it was enough. She wrapped her arm around his and rested her cheek against his armour-clad shoulder, something he refused to remove since arriving.

"What does Daenerys want from you?" He questioned suddenly, eyebrows furrowed as he stared into the distance.

"I'm not sure of her exact intentions," she admitted. "Although from what we've discussed so far... it almost seems like she just wants family. I suppose if you think about it, even without you and the children I have Tiernan and my grandfather. Daenerys has no one other than followers and advisors."

"I'd imagine she wants you to move down here, ride a second dragon and be the Visenya to her Rhaenys?" He smirked playfully, looking down at her.

"Perhaps you can be Aegon and we can share you," she joked, smiling back at him. "You need not fear, my love. Any bond forged with Daenerys will never encompass my allegiance nor my loyalty."

He couldn't help the genuine smile that lifted his lips, and prayed a silent thanks to the Old Gods and the New for delivering him a wife as perfect as she.

"I know Northerners are rather stubborn, but I didn't take them for _tardy_ as well," Tyrion Lannister's voice broke their moment just as Robb planted a kiss upon Fianna's forehead. "The Queen summoned you quite a while ago."

"She's not my Queen, Lannister," Robb fired back, his tone dropping from doting to defensive.

"And there comes the stubborn part," he remarked smartly. The couple reluctantly stood from the rock, turning around to follow after the imp towards the council room. "I believe your brother will have news you'd be interested in."

* * *

 **PHEW! Another chapter and there's only about three left until hiatus, which is kind of scary, but I'm also really excited to write them!**

 **Lots of scene building in this chapter rather than major events, but it's a necessity with what's to come. Fianna quite obviously doesn't want to bend to her Targaryen side, as much as Daenerys wants her too. I hope everyone was okay with Daenery's characterisation, she'll have her own POV soon but this chapter was mainly focused on what Robb and Fianna think of her. And Robb and Theon will have another chance to talk too, try to remember if you're wondering why Robb didn't lay him flat that Robb and Theon were both tortured, and although Robb's was harsh Theon's was way worse.**

 **Anyone have any theories about what direction Robb and Fianna will go? Will she become a second dragonrider? Will she burn like Aifric? Will Robb stop hating Daenerys?**

 **Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing, it means the world 3**

 **starevolution - Thanks so much as always for your support! Plenty more Dany and Fianna to come, she's just being a little prickly at the beginning ;) Till next time!**

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thank youuuuu! Hope you enjoyed this one too x**

 **Scoob96 - I'm so glad you're starting to like my direction! I told you to wait and see ;) I'm also glad you don't think focusing on Robb will undermine her. I think he's made a lot of sacrifices for her, so her moving to Winterfell instead of staying in Baelfort isn't that big of a deal. You're very right, Robb is a little taken aback by Jon's leadership by showing up at Dragonstone, and it will surely cause problems between them as Jon and Dany grow closer. I've filled this chapter with so many incest insinuations I think Fianna will need to step back soon enough ahah, hope you liked this chapter x**

 **angelicedg - Thanks! Dany likes Fianna, but Fianna doesn't trust her because she was raised on the belief that the Targaryens were terrible, just like Robb was. They'll have the chance to grow closer, not to worry x**

 **Guest - Awww thank you! I hope you like what's to come! x**

 **Scribbled Truth - This was a pleasure to read! It made my day the first time I read your comment! Thank you so so much, it means the world to me 3**


	54. (LIII) Stubborn Northerners

_Fianna_

 **"I THOUGHT BRAN WAS DEAD,"** Jon muttered, seemingly to himself, as he stared at the ground in absolute shock. Robb had ripped the scroll from his hands moments before, and was now reading its contents with furrowed brows.

He angled it toward Fianna, who read alongside him, appearing equally as concerned. What a strange reality they lived in now - where once she was convinced all of the Stark children were dead, and now none were.

"I'm happy for you both," Daenerys interjected, sounding anything but. Fianna sensed that the Queen held no attachment to the Starks she had never met, and saw this revelation as a crutch that Jon could use to leave her.

Their party was silent after that, taking in the news with a heavy heart. They had been at Dragonstone mere days, and even still it felt too long to be away from their home. Especially when home needed them the most.

"I'm sure you are," Robb muttered under his breath, handing the letter back to Jon to run his hand over his face in distress.

"None of you look happy," she remarked, prompting Fianna to throw her a cautious glare.

"Bran saw the Night King marching with his army towards Eastwatch," Jon spoke up, finding his voice. "If they break through the wall-"

"The wall has kept them out for thousands of years, presumedly," Varys cut him off, a rather eerie man - there was something about him that never settled quite right within Fianna.

"And what?" She replied. "If Wildings can make it over, who's to say a horde of supernatural creatures immune to the cold won't?"

"Jon, Fianna and I are going home, we're going to defend our families and our Kingdom," Robb added, his tone firm and leaving no room for debate. Daenerys visibly tensed, not looking excited for that prospect.

"But, you said you don't have the men," she tried to reason.

"Then we'll fight with the men we have," Jon shrugged, "unless you'll join us?"

Fianna met her eye, silently pleading with her, knowing the Queen's fondness for her. But it was futile, as she merely turned her eyes away and shook her head slightly.

"And give the country to Cersei?" She asked incredulously. "As soon as I march away, she marches in."

"Neither of you will have land to fight over if we don't stop them, you do realise that?" Fianna raised an eyebrow.

"Perhaps not," Tyrion began after a moments hesitation, "Cersei thinks the army of the dead is nothing but a story. What if we prove her wrong?"

"If you're suggesting we give her to the Night King," Robb spoke in a serious tone, "I'd happily escort her."

"Cersei won't come see the dead at my invitation," Jon scoffed.

"So we bring the dead to _her_ ," he emphasised, confusing the entirety of the room.

"I thought that's what we were trying to avoid?" Daenerys enquired.

"You don't have to bring the whole army," he continued, eyes wide as he spurned his idea. "Only one soldier."

"I maintain that it would be a _lot_ easier to just kill her," Fianna smirked sarcastically, receiving a nod of agreement from Robb. However their peers did not share their trepidations, and upon a quick glance around the room, they appeared to be even _considering_ it.

"The first White I ever saw was brought to Castle Black from beyond the wall," Jon began, reminiscing as his fingers stroked over the wooden, mapped table.

"Bring one to King's Landing and prove it to Cersei," Tyrion suggested.

"Have you all gone _completely_ mental?" Robb scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "You expect to make Cersei Lannister an ally, the woman who was singlehandedly responsible for _thousands_ of death over the years?"

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend," Jon explained, receiving an eye roll from Fianna.

"Then you need better friends," she commented, sitting down at the table in the chair beside her.

"This will all be pointless unless Cersei grants us a meeting and doesn't kill us all the second we step foot into the capital," Varys sounded, agreeing with the former King and Queen.

"Count us out," Robb responded after a brief glance with Fianna. "The only way we will march into Kings Landing is if it's to watch her execution."

"She'll listen to Jaime," Tyrion murmured, his eyes cast off in the distance. "And he might listen to me."

Daenerys sighed when he turned his head to look at her, leaving the decision up to the Queen in charge. Briefly, she met Fianna's eyes, and didn't fail to notice the small shake of her head.

The Targaryen was at a crossroads - she could listen to her niece and find another way of stopping this supposed army, or she could listen to Jon and her Hand. Perhaps the majority vote was a better one.

"How would you get into King's Landing?" She asked after a pause, avoiding Fianna's gaze as she knew she would meet a look of disapproval. On cue, Jon and Tyrion looked at Ser Davos.

"I can smuggle you in," he admitted. "But if the Gold Cloaks were to recognise you, I'm warning you - I'm not a fighter."

"But it'll all be for nothing if we don't have one of these dead men."

"With the Queen's permission, I'll go North and take one," Jorah announced, rather bravely. Fianna had only ever heard the man's name spoken, and never were the words kind. But whatever he did in his past, it was clear his loyalty to the North was a flicker in comparison to his fealty to Daenerys.

"The Free Folk will help us," Jon added. "They know the real North better than anyone."

"' _Us'_?" Fianna repeated.

"You're not leading a raid beyond the wall, Jon," Robb turned, his voice dropping with the anger building inside of him. "You're King in the North, not a member of the Night's Watch. Don't piss it all away over a foolish whim."

"I'm the only one here that's fought them," he disputed his brother. "The only one here who knows them."

"Fine then," Robb nodded, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared. "If you're going, then I am too."

"You most certainly are fucking _not_ ," Fianna's voice rose, almost in a shout. Robb turned to his wife, expression softening as he looked upon her.

"I don't have a choice, I can't let my brother die."

"And we can't lose you again," she yelled, uncaring for the several pairs of eyes fixed on them. " _I_ can't lose you again. You know this idea is stupid, you are all wasting time trying to win Cersei's alliance as if that _matters_. I can guarantee the second those bastards descend the wall, loyalty and fealty won't matter to any man the only thing that will matter is staying alive."

"I have to do this," he whispered, only to her, reaching out and gripping for her hands only to be immediately shoved off.

"If he dies," she backed away, talking to Jon but pointing at Robb as tears began to well up in her eyes, "I will kill every _single_ one of you, and I don't need to be a Queen with an army to do it."

With those words, leaving a heavy tension in the room as thick as a blanket, she turned and left, tears flooding her cheeks the second she shut the door.

* * *

The sobs had quietened some time ago, the tears drying on her cheeks to leave reddened skin in their wake.

Fianna Stark was sitting on the same rock she had sat on with Robb earlier that day, gazing off into the distance. Nobody had approached her yet, something she was thankful for. The anger that blazed inside her was something she hadn't felt in quite a while, and any words shared now would be surely hateful.

Fianna had spent years without the man she loved, and now that she had finally gotten him back, he was preparing to go on, what she deemed, a _suicide_ mission. She could probably have guessed why Robb wanted to go, out of fierce protectiveness of his brother and to gain the glory of being active again after spending so long away.

But the rest of the men going weren't Robb, they didn't have children waiting for them back at home, nor did they have a wife to come back to. Their deaths would have a minuscule impact in comparison to Robb's.

It was times like this she wished she had never abdicated. Such a decision would _never_ be allowed under her rule, and she cursed her good-brother and her aunt for allowing such a course to take action.

"We're leaving in a few hours," a voice called behind her, immediately recognisable.

"Fianna," Robb grumbled when she didn't respond, rounding the rock to stand in front of her. "You're acting like a child."

"And you're acting like a fool, so I guess we're rather even."

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he dropped to his knees in front of her, pleading for her to look him in the eye.

"No it won't," she vowed, "because I'm going too."

"No, you're not," he spoke firmly, leaving almost no room for argument.

"So it's alright for you to die, but not for me to join you?"

"I'm not _going_ to die," he repeated, "but if something should happen, the twins need at least one parent. Your mother died in childbirth, imagine how it would have felt to grow up not having had your father there too."

"And you lost your father," she argued, "would you put that pain on two three year olds?"

He didn't respond immediately, instead choosing to cup one cheek with his palm and rub at the skin covering her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Stubborn as always," he chuckled, shuffling to move and sit next to her on the rock.

"You _know_ it's a bad idea," her voice broke, threatening an incoming wave of tears again.

"I know."

"So why go?"

"Because they're helpless," Robb chuckled jokingly. "They're idiotic enough to make such a plan, imagine if they were sent North of the wall. They'd be like headless chickens in an hour. Jon is my brother, and my King. I can't let anything happen to him."

Giving into the feeling of his body next to hers, she leaned into his side, immediately feeling his arm wind around her.

"But I just got you back..."

"It will take a week to travel by boat, you could see me within a month, my love."

"A month without you?" She sniffed back tears, feeling as helpless and as clingy as a child. "That's another month we're away from the children, Robb."

"I know," he sighed sadly, resting his chin on the top of her head. "What's more, Jon wants you to stay here and keep an eye on Daenerys."

"Why?"

"The King in the North leaving the North while a dragon-riding Targaryen sits in the country? He's not the tallest of fools."

Fianna didn't respond, only clutching him tighter. He took her silence as a form of acceptance, and slowly let go of her to stand up, gesturing for her to follow.

"Come on," he murmured, taking her hands and starting to tug her gently back towards the castle. "I've got two days left, let me love my wife as a husband should."

* * *

 _Robb_

Fianna and Robb walked hand in hand down the winding staircase of Dragonstone, slowly, for they knew what their end destination would be.

It was time for him to depart the island and travel North, and no matter how much she pleaded or begged, the stubborn Northerner wouldn't give in. Fighting him was useless, so the woman settled for cherishing their last few hours together.

"Robb?" A tentative voice called out from the open doorway, which he recognised as the throne room where they had first met Daenerys.

Theon Greyjoy stood a few feet away, eyes flickering around as he was too nervous to meet Robb's gaze for too long. The former King hesitated, before giving his wife a reassuring squeeze on her hand and walking inside.

Fianna crossed her arms worriedly, eyeing the Greyjoy boy carefully. She was ready to go inside and give him a peace of her mind, for abandoning them, for allowing his sister to raid her home - but she decided to let Robb handle it. He was originally loyal to Robb, after all, not her.

"I heard you're going North of the Wall," Theon continued when Robb didn't speak, awkwardly curling his hands in. It still shook Robb to his core to see the difference in the boy he knew and the man before him now, and as much as he tried, he couldn't muster up the same anger for him that he used to have. "You're risking everything for Jon."

"I gave him the throne for a reason, I have to trust his judgement even if I disagree with it," Robb admitted, speaking through gritted teeth. His entire body was tense as he faced down his former best friend.

"You've always known what was right. Even when we were all young and stupid, you were the bravest of us all."

"I was too stubborn to listen to others judgements. Perhaps if I had, I would never have let you go back to the Iron Islands. Or never have gone to that wedding." Theon appeared surprised at his admission, expecting Robb to ignore his compliment or simply explode in a fit of anger at him. "I've done plenty of things I regret-"

"Not compared to me, you haven't," Theon cut him off, his expression twisting with guilt.

"No," Robb's voice hardened. "Not compared to you."

Theon dared to take a step closer, his shoulders heavy with the burdens he carried as he dared to finally lift his gaze and meet Robb's eyes.

"I always wanted to do the right thing. Be the right kind of person. It always seems like there was an impossible choice I had to make... Stark or Greyjoy."

His words stirred a reaction in Robb, who stepped closer to him quickly with his upper lip curled in anger.

"My father was more of a father to you than _yours_ ever was. And you betrayed him. We had known each other since we were _boys_ , Theon. And you betrayed me!" His voice carried off into a shout.

"I did," he whispered.

"You were a brother to me. I _trusted_ you, even though I knew you were a fool. You swore fealty to me that night at Riverrun, and you pissed it away the first chance you got."

"I know..."

Robb hesitated before continuing, his anger dissipating the longer he looked at the broken man in front of him, who looked as if he would never recover from his trauma.

"But you were still my brother."

Theon inhaled sharply, eyes widened in surprise at the man's words.

"But... the things I've done-"

"The things that I forgive you for." The words broke something within the Greyjoy boy, and it wasn't long before tears began to build in his eyes. Automatically, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Robb in a tight hug.

It took him a second to respond, but when he did, he wrapped his arms around him in return, accepting it.

"You never had to choose," Robb pointed out. "You were born a Greyjoy, but you were raised a Stark. You're both."

When Theon finally pulled away, he looked visibly less tense than previously, his cheeks reddened with unshed tears. His eyes were fixed on the Stark heir as he turned and left the hall, preparing to leave for the Wall.

It was at that moment that Theon found himself praying, for the first time in a long time, that Robb would make it home.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Northern girl kissed his lips over and over, holding the back of his head so tight he was unable to escape from her grasp. The scene had elicited laughter from the group waiting in the boat, but a swift glare from The Young Wolf stopped them in their tracks.

"Fianna," he chuckled breathlessly, "I have to go."

"Please," she begged silently, pressing her forehead against his and closing her eyes, revelling in their last few moments. "Come back to me, please."

"I will," he promised, pressing one final kiss to her forehead before backing away and climbing inside of the small boat that would take them to a much bigger one offshore. There, they could travel to Eastwatch.

"Fianna," Jon nodded his head toward her as he walked past, but that wasn't enough for her - as she gripped his arm and hauled him into a hug as well, which he awkwardly accepted.

"You know," a deep voice sounded behind her as she let go of Jon, "I'm leaving too."

"Gendry?" She whispered in shock, taking in the boy's cropped hair. He had certainly matured in the years since they last saw each other, more of a man now than a boy. But there was no denying it was him.

"Alright, my lady?" He greeted, eagerly accepting the embrace she offered to him as well.

"My god, it's been so long. I can't wait to tell Arya about this," she gushed, smacking her hands playfully against the sides of his head.

"Arry?" He tilted his head, eyes widened in surprise. "She's still alive?"

"Did you really think Arya Stark wouldn't still be alive?" Fianna raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I swear, she has the strength of a middle-aged knight rolled into the body of a girl."

"Is she here?" He looked around excitedly, the light in his eyes something she didn't fail to pick up on.

"No," Fianna told him sadly, "but she _is_ in Winterfell. If you wanted to.. you know, drop by."

It felt like time was moving too fast until the boat was ready to depart, and every second Robb spent inside of it her resolve weakened. She could pray every waking minute of the day for his safe return, but the only one in charge of his fate - was Robb himself.

"He'll be fine, Fianna," Jon reassured in a shout as the boat began to drift off.

Even after everyone else had left, she still stood at the beach, staring off and trying to focus her vision to make out the boat in the distance.

"I can't imagine how difficult it must get for you, to send a lover away," Tyrion voiced beside her. She hadn't even been aware he was still there.

"Coming from the man who sent him away in the first place," she bit back.

Tyrion hummed, a small smirk on his lips. Fianna refused to look at him, her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

"Nothing personal, it's a Lannister thing," she shrugged, a smile of her own forming.

"Always is," he chuckled. "I have it on good authority that you're part Targaryen yourself, a rather scandalous family as well if I do say so myself."

"And you and Daenerys are keen on not letting me forget it," her lips lifted into a genuine smile, finally casting a glance down to the dwarf. "I met your father."

"I know. Couldn't have been pleasant, I imagine. If it's any consolation, his rant about you and your grand escape was almost an hour long, his longest in quite some time."

"Good," she laughed bitterly. "Heard _you_ were the one who killed him."

"Would you hate me a little less if I said yes?"

"Yes."

"Then yes I did, whilst taking a shit, no less."

"Perfect," she beamed brightly, not at all affected by the details of his death. Because of him, she had lost over half of her men, and nearly her own life. "Tell me, is the Mountain still alive?"

"Oh yes, he's rather hard to kill, I've heard," Tyrion revealed.

"I'll have to see that firsthand," she raised an eyebrow, already imagining their next encounter, whenever that would be. Gregor Clegane had tackled her when she was a child, forced her to watch as her bannermen died for her, brutally. She had not forgotten, nor would she ever.

"Daenerys was rather excited about meeting you, especially when she heard you were Queen for a while, even after your husband supposedly died."

"Why?" Fianna pushed, she would never understand Daenerys' fascination with her, especially giving her prickly nature towards her aunt.

"She's rather distrustful, our Dragon Queen," he went on to explain. "Past experiences and that. But the one thing she never truly had was a family. When she heard that you were still alive, and somehow came to the conclusion you may be related, she rushed me to send a raven."

Fianna accepted his words silently, nodding her head and lowering her gaze to the ground. Perhaps it was time to change her resolve, and the Gods seemed to coincide with that as the next thing that caught her eye was a flap of vast wings resting on the cliff above.

Daenerys didn't speak when she saw Fianna in the distance, walking towards her. She assumed that the woman was coming to argue with her, if her attitude in the counsel room was anything to go by.

She ignored her presence entirely, stroking her hand against Drogon's face gently. The dragon was truly like a pet to her, just like Chroí had to been to her, or Grey Wind is to Robb.

"Does it sleep at the bottom of your bed as well?" She joked, trying to break the tension.

"Funny," Daenerys responded drily. Fianna dared to get closer, hoping Drogon wouldn't set her alight because of it. She immediately stopped in her tracks when the winged beast turned and began to growl.

"Did you mean what you said?" The queen asked, ignoring the obvious stand off between her niece and her dragon.

"What did I say?" She questioned, staring in fear at the large teeth that were currently being bared at her.

"How you would kill us all if something happened to Robb?"

"Seven Hells, Daenerys can you call that dragon off, please?" She called out as Drogon inched closer to her.

With a sigh she waved her hand, prompting the dragon to back down and take off the edge of the cliff, soaring through the air.

"I don't know, okay?" She admitted now that she was safe, "when Robb was gone before... I was so angry, all the fucking time. I didn't feel anything when I killed people, or when I destroyed someone's home. I was so driven by revenge and hatred, I think I lost my mind a little. When Robb's around... he calms me. And if he were gone for good, even though I tried to prevent it, I don't know what I'd do."

"I don't think I've ever loved anyone enough to feel that way," Daenerys revealed, a sad smile on her lips.

"Really? So that settles my mind on what's developing between you and Jon, then," she teased.

"There's nothing between me and Jon," the blonde scoffed, a red tint to her snowy cheeks.

"Well if it's any consolation," Fianna smirked in amusement, "Robb was betrothed to a Frey girl and we spent months staying away from each other because of it, not realising that it was actually _us_ that was betrothed. But then because Robb didn't know and betrothed himself to the Frey girl already, her father killed our whole army and almost us."

"Well," Daenerys' eyes were widened. "I was sold to a Dothraki Khal who didn't speak a lick of Westerosi."

"Fair enough," Fianna broke into giggles along with Daenerys.

For the first time since arriving, they had bridged a gap between them, and Fianna found herself wondering if one day they'd be able to develop the relationship that Daenerys so longed for.

* * *

 _Robb_

Upon arriving at Eastwatch, Robb wondered how Jon had survived living at the wall for so long. The winds and winter were something he had never experienced, a bitter cold that settled in your chest so no matter what you did, you couldn't warm up.

Tormund was leading them towards the prison cells, where apparently there were others who wanted to travel north as well. It came as quite a shock to Robb to see a familiar looking topknot and eyepatch, upon rounding the corner.

"Thoros?" Robb asked, prompting the older man to lean out of the shadows in the corner with narrowed eyes, trying to make out the man behind the bars.

"I'll be damned if that isn't the Young Wolf," he chuckled, stumbling off of his bench to get a closer look. "You look healthier, now that you're not inches from death."

"You know them?" Jon questioned him, full of suspicion. The Brotherhood without Banners were known outlaws in the Seven Kingdoms.

"They saved my life after the Dreadfort, helped remind me who I was," he explained, before turning back around to them. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to go North of the Wall," Beric answered for them both. "Our Lord told us to."

"Don't trust them," Gendry interrupted, leaning against the bars as he spoke his next words. "The last thing their _Lord_ told him to do was sell me to a red witch to be murdered."

"But did you die?" Robb interjected in frustration.

"They haven't been giving us anything to drink, Stark," Thoros sounded out. "I haven't been feeling like myself."

"Here we all are," Beric announced, "heading in the same direction for the same reason. It doesn't matter what our reasons are, because there's a greater purpose at work. We serve it together, whether we know it or not-"

"For fuck sakes will ye' shut your hole?" The hound finally spoke, looking somehow more terrifying than ever since the last time Robb and Jon saw him in Winterfell. "Are we coming with you or not?"

The sight that befell the group as the gates rose up was breathtaking. Completely void of life, all that could be seen was a flurry of snow and the whistle of wind. It was the harshest winter conditions most of them would have ever seen, and a rather surreal experience to those who hadn't seen it before. They had spent their life trying to keep the Land Beyond the Wall out, and now they were heading straight into it.

Robb brought his furs up to cover his mouth before the air could hit his throat, the seemingly never ending chill in his bones something he was slowly becoming accustomed to. The reality of the situation hit him, and he reminded himself what he was doing this for. To protect his brother and King, and hoping it would eventually lead to the protection of his wife and kids.

Jon turned to the side to share a look with him before they fully departed, their gaze speaking the words they didn't feel the need to share. Although he wouldn't admit it, Jon was glad his half brother was there. Despite being only a few months his senior, Robb was always a big brother figure and best friend to him growing up. He needed his guidance now more than ever.

So with a deep breath, they set off, their feet sinking into the inches of snow beneath them.

* * *

 _Fianna_

She was dreaming, that much she could tell. A dead giveaway was her location, which happened to be her own home - Baelfort. Although there was a distinct difference in the decor, which seemed to be far more dated.

"Aifric, please reconsider," Tiernan gripped her arm and begged, his eyes watering and voice desperate. It was an appearance she had never seen on her cousin, but somehow she knew this wasn't Tiernan at all, but a brother with an entirely different name.

"I'll never back down, Peader," she refuted, pulling him in for a quick embrace. He gripped her in return tightly, probably knowing this was the last time they would see each other.

The name was a giveaway, but the interaction was only confirmation to her. In the dream, she was herself - but she wasn't. Instead of Fianna Bua, she was now _Aifric_ Bua - the famed ancestor who's legend and name would stay alive for generations, a silent martyr for the North.

She could feel the tears slipping down her cheeks as she embraced her brother, but her resolve was only strengthened by the looks of admiration she received from all those around her.

It was the screech of a dragon that prompted her to stand outside, willing to submit herself so _he_ wouldn't attack Baelfort itself. Aifric knew her brother would bend the knee, but her father had left the stronghold to her, and she wasn't going to give it up while it was under her rule.

The truly gigantic creature was perched on the high walls of Baelfort, almost knocking over nearby towers and the roof with its wings. Atop the dragon, seated as if it were a horse, was Aegon. Or was supposedly Aegon, she guessed, as Daenerys was the face of the dragon rider.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" 'Aegon' called to her when she came into view, lifting the dress she got married in as she walked along to keep it off the ground.

"You killed my husband," she shouted in return. "Burn me if you must, you're no King of mine."

"As you wish."

Daenerys/Aegon narrowed their eyes at the stubborn Northerner, hoping that her actions wouldn't ignite an uprising. Thankfully, Torrhen had already bent the knee, so the North didn't have a leader to get behind.

The Bua girl took a deep breath, opening her arms wide and welcoming the flames that would eventually meet her skin. She kept her heart eyes on the Targaryen and spoke the words that they hesitated to.

" _Dracarys_."

The last thing Fianna saw before she woke up was an influx of flames soaring through the air, just seconds from meeting her skin.

* * *

 _ **Holy Christ I've been writing this chapter so long my eyes are burning. It's about five and a half thousand words, which I can imagine the next few chapters will be too. Only two left before hiatus!**_

 _ **As you can see, Fianna's still a little hotheaded.**_

 _ **As a side note, I started this book a year ago around this week. And I'm quite emotional about how far it's come, I truly didn't expect anyone to read it, or to even write as much as I have. Thanks to everyone who reads the book, for what reason, I'm not sure of! I look back at earlier chapters and CRINGE from how bad they are. This is my first book, and I've developed my skills so much in a year. I can't wait honestly to get onto hiatus so I can go back and EDIT EDIT EDIT.**_

 ** _thanks as always!_**

 ** _Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thanks so much! I am indeed following the storyline, so technically Jon and Fianna are related as well they just don't know it yet. ;) thank you so much for your support! I hope you have a great day! x_**

 ** _Guest - Shit is definitely about to go down! I don't think there'll be any filler chapters for the rest of the book to be honest, so they're all going to be hella long so I can keep up with character development as well as the action, season 8 better be something I can work with ahah_**

 ** _ggghhhaaarrr67 - all I'm saying is... it definitely won't be the same in this book as it is in the show ;)_**

 ** _florabest - Thank you! It's really surreal writing their interactions because they haven't actually interacted in the show since the very first episode. Things will be different from the main storyline that's all I'll say, muahaha. Oh my gosh really? That's such a compliment! And I definitely will! I don't think I'll post the chapters during hiatus on here though, I have another book where I post one shots for this book so I think I'll post a lot on there to keep the Robb/Fianna vibes going until april!_**

 ** _starevolution1273 - Thank you so much as always! Never feel pressured to read quickly or even review at all! You've supported me so much you can be as late as you like ahah 3 I hope you have an amazing day x_**


	55. (LIV) The Second Dragonrider

_Robb_

Robb Stark liked to think of himself as an enduring man. After all he had been through, it seemed only a correct conclusion.

But never before was his physical endurance tested, than it had been above the wall. There was one saving grace to his agony, though, and that was the fact that Gendry - who he discovered was Robert Baratheon's _bastard_ , was ten times colder than he was.

Robb had grown up in the North, Winterfell was his native land and he had never spent longer than a year in the south. Gendry, on the other hand, lived and breathed Southern air since his first cry into the world. Unfortunately for the rest of them, that meant the baseborn boy never stopped complaining about it.

He blatantly ignored Tormund's guide on staying warm, which he was currently reciting to Gendry directly behind him, until he was addressed directly.

"'Tis a pity you didn't allow your pretty woman to come along," Tormund called out to Robb, who's eyes rolled up to the Heavens. "We would have made sure she was kept warm, you know."

"Watch it," Jon warned him, knowing full well that Robb's patience was consistently on the verge of breaking.

"I'd imagine my wife would have been plenty warm at my side," Robb replied, his tone steady and seemingly uncaring.

"Maybe she'd prefer a Big Bear to a Young Wolf, eh?" He jibed, catching up to walk by his side and playfully elbowing him.

"I doubt she'd want to be burned by that firecrotch," he fired back, corners of his lips lifting into a smirk as he nodded towards the mass of ginger hair atop Tormund's head. To his surprise, instead of getting angry, the wildling laughed heartily.

"What about the Dragon Queen then, eh?" He continued, walking alongside Jon and Robb.

"She won't fight alongside us unless I bend the knee," Jon sighed in defeat.

"Which isn't going to happen," Robb promptly reminded him. "She can rule over the white walkers if she wants to stay out of the Great War, because that's all that'll be left."

"You speak like the free folk," Tormund spoke with mild admiration, "we're too proud to kneel. But you know, Mance Raydar never bent the knee. How many of his people died for his pride?"

"Not a matter of pride," Robb answered, although the comment was directed at Jon. "An alliance can be made if she so pleases, but she came here to conquer seven kingdoms, not five of them. The Starks will never again bend to the will of the Targaryens or the Lannisters."

Jon stayed pointedly silent, hearing both men's side on the matter, but his lack of commentary worried Robb. The idea that he was considering it angered him, but he had hoped their bond was strong enough that Jon would come to him if he had decided to take such a path.

A while had passed, and Robb had managed to end up next to Gendry on their trek. He had only met Robert Baratheon once, but it was clear to see the similarities between the father and son. He couldn't believe he had ever believed that Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella were ever true Baratheon-born. Robb supposed he assumed they took after their mother, or that Robert's genetics weren't as strong as the Lannisters. Clearly, Gendry was proof that was incorrect.

"I only met your father once, in Winterfell," Robb started suddenly, striking up a conversation with the boy who had finally stopped complaining. "I was named after him, I believe."

"I've heard all about you, Young Wolf," Gendry chuckled to himself. "Your sister Arry never quite shut up about you. Always on about how her brother was going to avenge your father and become the one true King."

"Arry?" He repeated, in confusion.

"Arya," Gendry clarified, using her nickname out of habit. "We were together for some time after Eddard's death. We looked out for each other. Did you know she pretended to be a boy for the longest time?"

"I'm aware," Robb smirked in amusement. "And define 'together'."

"Oh, just friends," he shook his head quickly, hands in the air in defence. His reaction was a little over the top, telling Robb that perhaps their bond could have went further, one day.

"Arya's always been a little wild, one time when she was little she sheep shifted Sansa's bed, I swear she cried for a day about it," Robb broke into a grin out of amusement. He couldn't wait to see his sisters again, hoping that it would be sooner rather than later.

And now that he and Fianna were going to reside in Winterfell, it would be as if their family were whole again.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"Every day, you come out here and you stare at Viserion," a voice broke her out of her trance, startling her enough to jump slightly. "When are you ever going to just try and touch him?"

Daenerys' tone was full of playfulness, but there was a sincerity in her voice. She wanted nothing more for Fianna than for her to embrace the obvious bond she was developing between herself and one of the dragons.

In a selfish way, she wanted it for herself too - to not be the only dragon rider in the whole world. And if Fianna were to become a true dragon rider because of her grand mother's genetics, she would surely _have_ to accept her lineage. Perhaps then she would even accept Daenerys.

Viserion would occasionally settle himself on the cliff head, whenever Fianna was seated on the rock. Each day, she wondered what his scaly skin would feel like. How would he react if she dared to touch him?

"It doesn't make you any less of a Bua," Daenerys continued in a murmur, when she saw that her words were getting to the Northern lady.

"I'll do it if it means you stop getting on my back about it," she grumbled, hoping that she sounded uncaring enough about it, but in truth she was feeling a mixture of emotions. Primarily - excitement and nervousness. Her heart raced in her chest at the prospect of reaching out and touching the dragon, much like when she was a child and had sneaked into her fathers chambers to hold his long sword.

Daenerys bit back a smile, stepping back and allowing the brunette to march forward, toward the cream and golden coloured dragon. In her own opinion, Fianna considered him to the most majestic of all three, despite not being the largest.

Her hand began to quiver slightly the closer she got, it was as if it burned at the prospect of what it was about to touch. Fianna's steps slowed and slowed the closer she got, her nervousness starting to unevenly win over her excitement.

With a deep exhale, she shrugged off her fears, and lifted her hand up to the dragon's face. When she did, it was almost as if she lost control of her movements, and she slipped closer without even intending to.

When Fianna finally stroked the dragon's skin, he bent his large head down to her submissively, allowing her hand to roam over his snout just above his vicious teeth.

Her heart hammered in her chest, for there was no denying after this. Up until this point, it was easy for Fianna to brush off the dragon, to ignore the quarter part of herself that allowed such a bond to take place. But it was well known only Valyrian blood would enable someone to bond with a dragon, and now Viserion had chosen his rider.

Daenerys couldn't help but beam at the sight, finally following after her and approaching her side.

"I told you, you wouldn't regret it," she spoke proudly, but Fianna barely heard her. Now that contact had been initiated, she wondered what it would be like to actually mount the dragon, to soar through the skies as Daenerys did. To _fly_.

"This doesn't change anything," Fianna whispered, voice thick with emotion. "I'm still a Bua and a Stark first and foremost. My loyalty lies with the North."

"That's all fair and true," Daenerys agreed. "But I don't think Viserion will be willing to stray from your side if you chose to leave."

Possibilities flourished within Fianna's rapid-thinking mind, what if Viserion were to abandon Daenerys and return to the North with _her_? Would they even need her allegiance in the Great War if Fianna had a dragon of her own?

Daenerys smiled at her, innocent to the thoughts going on inside Fianna's head. There was only one way Fianna could truly solidify their bond, now.

"Can I... ?" She trailed off, gesturing towards Viserion with a tilt of her head. The Dragon Queen positively lit up at the suggestion, nodding eagerly.

Fianna, copying what she had seen Daenerys do occasionally when she felt the need to ride, stepped around to Viserion's side. He was much, _much_ taller than herself, so when it came to mounting him she struggled, having to use his wing to get up and hope that it didn't hurt him. Although, he didn't even flinch as she stepped on it.

Finally, she sat upon his back, feeling taller than the world beneath her. The fact that Viserion even allowed her to do so, was proof of their bond. Fianna was a dragon rider, no matter how much she had denied it.

She gripped tightly onto the spikes in his back when he began to circle around, knowing full well he was ready to take off he cliff.

"Dany?" Fianna called out worriedly, failing to notice that she flinched a little at the use of that nickname. It had been so long since she had last heard it.

"Go, Fianna," she replied encouragingly, waving her hand off. Within seconds, Viserion had veered off the cliff's edge, soaring through the sky and heading straight for the water beneath them.

Unable to help herself, Fianna screamed in terror, never having experienced anything like it in her life. The only thing she could compare it to, perhaps, was her first time riding a horse. And even that was minuscule in comparison.

At the very last second, just as Fianna was sure he was about to plunge into the cold water beneath, he swivelled through the air, flattening out and flying directly above the water, so close she could see their mirror image beneath them.

Gradually, he began to get higher and higher, and within minutes the dragon was soaring around Dragonstone, with Fianna securely on his back. Much like her previous scream, Fianna couldn't help but scream again. This time - with exhilaration and thrill.

* * *

 _Robb_

The closer to night, and the closer North they got, the more freezing it became and the harder it was to breathe or see. A snow storm was in full effect, blinding them from everything in the distance. It was now nearly impossible to breathe without having your mouth covered, for an icy pain would settle in your chest otherwise.

They huddled close as a group, for safety and protection. So when Jon and Tormund stopped in their tracks, so did everyone else.

"Look!" Tormund pointed, casting their gazes towards a dark shadow in the distance they could just about make out.

"What is it? A direwolf?" Robb asked curiously, suddenly wishing that he had Grey Wind at his side. But alas, his own wolf was charged with protecting his children.

"A bear," Sandor corrected, "big fucker."

A lone ranger who had accompanied them, who had previously strayed away from the group moments before, turned and began to ran back as the beast noticed the group. It charged closer and closer, prompting them to whip out their swords and weapons for defence.

For a split second, the bear disappeared from their sight within a flurry of white snow, but it wasn't gone for long. Soaring through the air, seemingly out of nowhere, it devoured the ranger instantly, until all that was left was a blood stain and distant screams of agony.

"Quick!" Robb commanded, gesturing at them all authoritatively, "get in a circle and keep an eye out!"

They immediately assembled themselves into a circle, backs to each other and swords angled forward as they prepared for the incoming fight. Robb stood in between Jon and Gendry, never lifting his eyes off of the area in front of him. For if he did, it would not only cost him his own life, but potentially others in the group as well.

Another clearly did not have the same mindset, as when the beast roared it again it was directly behind him, currently wrapping its teeth around another member of their party.

Bravely, Robb and Jon began to sprint towards the beast, just as it killed another. Thoros and Beric followed, their blades suddenly alight with a flame that emerged from nowhere.

As they were closer, Beric was first to attack the bear with his blazing sword, spreading the fire to the animal. It's eyes were spookily blue, combined with chunks of skin that were missing entirely, making it appear slightly more terrifying than it already was.

Robb swung his sword through its side with a sickening crunch, but it did not deter the mammal, who had set his sights on Thoros next. They wrestled to the ground, the Red Priest on his back with nothing but a sword in his hands to wield him off. But it wasn't long before the sword was tossed to the side within the beast's jaw, leaving Thoros open to be mauled.

"No!" Robb shouted, feeling a strong sense of protection over the man who had saved him. He rushed forward, swinging again but aiming for its neck this time. The bear howled in pain, veering to the side and detaching his teeth from Thoro's chest. Now that he was distracted, he focused on Robb, a roar rising in his throat.

Empowered by the image of Thoros, bleeding out on the ground, the former King lunged forward and shoved his sword through the bear's mouth, angling it correctly so it went straight into its skull as well. It died instantly, from his positioning or the dragonglass, he did not know.

Panting heavily from exertion, chest on fire as the icy winds hit the back of his throat, Robb dropped to his knees on the snow-covered ground and retracted the sword from its mouth. He dragged his clothes back up to cover his mouth, shoved his blade into his scabbard and redirected his attention as everyone gathered around Thoros.

Beric ripped open his clothes, revealing the damage beneath. Thoros was bleeding heavily, two large bites indented into his chest that would surely have caused too much damage for any of them to know how to fix.

Robb clambered forward until he was beside Thoros, inspecting the damage himself with a worried crease between his brows. However many mistakes the man had made in his life, he would always be thankful towards him for taking him in after the Dreadfort. For showing him who he truly was,

"He needs to get back to Eastwatch," Jorah commented, hanging back from the group. Beric and Robb shared a glance, knowing that would be damn near possible now. The walk back would be long, treacherous and entirely dangerous, never mind having to carry another man.

Beric relit his sword, and Robb guessed what was about to happen next. Reaching for the flask he knew to be in Thoros' pocket, he opened it up and angled it towards his lips.

"Here, you'll need it," he encouraged, the Red Priest not needing to be told twice as he gulped down sips of alcohol to numb the impending pain. Afterwards, handing the flask back to Robb and turning to Beric. "Go on."

The sizzle of burning skin was a sound Robb thought he'd never forget., and he couldn't help but feel an anger rising within him. He had _warned_ them all how idiotic the plan was. And now three of the group were dead and one seriously injured.

* * *

Robb Stark would never forget the first time he saw a white walker.

It was through a gap in the mountain, which Jon and Tormund had sussed out upon noticing the horde of creatures walking beneath them. He was speechless for the first minute, watching their lazy, languid movements while walking in a single line.

Up until now, it was easy for him to not be afraid of the beings he had never actually seen. He had heard stories his entire life, from Old Nan and now Jon, but never had he truly _believed_ until they were walking a short distance away, ready to cause chaos at any sign of life.

The term "the dead", which Jon often used to describe them, suddenly made sense. He often wondered how such dangerous beings could actually be so dangerous when they were technically dead, but now he saw them for what they were. Some were missing whole limbs, while others missed chunks of skin. Some even had their bones bared and in full show.

He barely heard the conversation between Jon and Tormund next to them, all he could see in his minds eye was his family. But a strange, distorted image of them - where they all looked like the beings below, blue eyed and all.

Jon had been the one to set up the trap, having had experience with the land beyond the wall. He drew upon his experience with the free folk as a man of the night's watch, lighting a fire that would surely catch their attention. And it did.

The group of about a dozen, give or take, stood in confusion, looking around the area they were in for the humans who obviously started the fire.

But they didn't need to look long, for the humans came to _them_.

They charged forward, and Robb forced himself to slip into his 'battle' mode. A state he fell into in the midst of a battle where all images of loved ones and home were pushed from his mind, all he could focus on was swinging his sword through the air and meeting someone, or something, on the other end.

They weren't explicitly difficult to fight, but aim and precision mattered so much more. A white walker wouldn't fall and scream if their limbs were severed, every hit had to have been a deadly strike.

Whatever happened next, Robb couldn't explain, for he had just killed two white walkers and set his sight on a third when they _all_ crumbled, seemingly to their death.

The group looked around in confusion, meeting each other's eyes with shared looks of bafflement. But that moment couldn't last long, as the high pitched shrieks of a live white walker could be heard. They turned immediately and began to encircle him, as planned, for he would be the one they'd take home.

It had all gone a little _too_ easy, for Robb's belief.

With a single punch, Tormund floored the white walker, allowing Sandor the chance to jump on top of him. As the others settled restraints upon its flailing limbs, the white walker suddenly let out a screech like no other. It penetrated their ear drums, so loud it echoed around the entire valley.

"Shut him up!" Robb grumbled, grabbing the thing's jawbone from above his head and holding it up so tight it's bony mouth was clenched closed, preventing a scream. Realising he wouldn't be able to hold it forever, he reached for a strip of cloth in his pockets and wrapped it underneath its jaw, tying a knot at the top of his skull tightly.

He smirked breathlessly in achievement, meeting Jon's eyes with a look of triumph.

"We did it," he breathed out, smirk quickly falling when he saw that Jon did not wear a similar expression, and in fact, looked rather terrified.

Slowly, he turned to the vast valley beside him, just as the sound of footfalls reached their ears. Immediately, the group froze in terror, realising that the creature was not screaming in discontent. It was _calling_ the rest of its kind.

Scrambling for an idea, Jon looked around in panic. Robb left the white walker's side and approached him, gripping his shoulders tightly and masking his own fear. He would _not_ let this be his last day.

"We came here because of Daenerys," he spit his words fiercely, pointing in the direction he knew would lead home. "We need to send her a raven and tell her to come, _now._ "

Jon nodded quickly, working automatically and reaching for the nearest man, who happened to be Gendry. He knew it would be futile to tell Robb to go, he'd never have left his brother.

"Run back to Eastwatch, get a raven to Daenerys and tell her what's happened," he demanded.

"I'm not leaving you!"

"You're the youngest and the fastest, now go!" Robb interrupted, reaching for his shoulder and hauling him to the side, lighting shoving him onward.

With Gendry off, they now had to focus on saving themselves, running straight for the direction where the footfalls couldn't be heard. However, unbeknownst to the group, the valley had once contained a small lake. A lake that was now covered in a sheet of ice, crackling the second the group stepped onto it.

They stood for a minute, trying to figure out how to move, but a swift glance behind him allowed Robb to see the sheer magnitude of the incoming group. Or rather, the incoming _army_.

The passage in the mountains they ran through was completely black with the amount of white walkers, contrasting with the snow that covered everything else.

"Don't just stand there, keep moving!" Robb roared, turning and beginning to sprint forward again, prompting the rest to follow.

The group were already slowed with Sandor and Tormund carrying the white walker, but it became increasingly clear by the flickers of movement he saw in the corner of his eye that the white walkers were just that bit faster than them. Robb was at the front of the group, giving him a sense of responsibility over the rest.

He anxiously looked around as he ran, desperate to seek a way out. It had been so long since he was the one in charge, since _he_ was the one to make the plans, it was a rather jarring feeling.

Upon reaching the rock that marked the centre point of the frozen lake, Robb and Jon finally noticed why the whites that had overtaken them hadn't immediately attacked. It was because they had scurried on to block all avenues of an exit, leaving them stranded in the centre of the lake with no way out.

"What the fuck do we do?!" Jon shouted, backing up onto the rock and swivelling around on the spot, cursing for the first time in a long time.

"They'll never make it over the ice, there's two many of them," Robb spoke in a slightly calmer, although still scared, voice.

Sure enough, he was right, the second they stepped closer the ice began to shatter beneath their feet, causing around a dozen to plunge into the water below. Like a chain reaction, the crack followed until it was surrounding them, in a perfect circle, preventing the whites from reaching the rock.

"They can't swim," Jon murmured in realisation, taking a deep breath now that there was no _immediate_ danger.

Still, there were surely hundreds of walkers surrounding them, and with the icy conditions it wouldn't be long before the ice would reform.

* * *

The minutes turned to hours, and night had fallen again. The ice had yet to freeze once more, leaving them standing on the rock and practically waiting to be overwhelmed by the horde.

Robb had resorted to sitting down, his hands clutching the side of his head in horror as the severity of the situation began to settle in.

He didn't know if Gendry had made it to Eastwatch, and if they were supposed to sit and wait for Daenerys or not. He didn't know how fast dragons could travel, or if she'd arrive before the ice had refrozen - if she arrived at all.

The image of Fianna standing on the beach, watching as he sailed away was imprinted on his mind. For two days, she had begged and pleaded for him not to go, even cried when she realised he didn't see any other choice _but_ to go.

If only he had listened to her, they could have been home now with their children, preparing for the storm and preparing to leave towards Winterfell. The idea that they would grow up without a father pained him to no extent, perhaps even hurt him more than the idea that he would never see Fianna again.

He decided that Fianna would never let Daenerys leave their message unanswered, she would enforce her hand to help. Or marched North and saved them all herself.

As night faded to morning, and ice had settled on their hair and on their beards, the cracks in the ice began to froze over completely. And there was still no sign of Daenerys, or Fianna.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Northern lady chuckled to herself rather audibly, reading the contents of the scroll with an amused grin on her face. Fianna's humour was enough to catch the attention of her aunt, who was seated across the table, eating her own dinner.

"What is it?" Daenerys asked interestingly, prompting Fianna to laugh again as she turned to face her.

"It's a scroll from my cousin Tiernan, I had wrote to him asking if he would like to rule over Baelfort instead of the Twins and his reply was rather... opinionated," she explained, setting down the scroll after rolling it up, her fingers skimming over the Bua paw print that sealed it.

"Why would you want him to rule over Baelfort?" She pressed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"Robb and I will be returning to Winterfell, it feels only right. I'm offering it to Tiernan as he's the only surviving Bua left," she shrugged, a wistful undertone to her voice.

Daenerys nodded in understanding, before nodding her head, "what did he have to say?"

"He said," Fianna cleared her throat and unravelled the scroll again, "'My dearest cousin Fianna, I wonder if you grow restless at the thought of me not entirely relocating for longer than a week. To answer your offer, I will accept. The Twins are a rather dreary place, shockingly so, it's almost as if hundreds of Northerners _hadn't_ been brutally slaughtered on this very land. I miss the Northern air and the Northern women - well, one redhead in particular springs to mind. I agree entirely with your suggestion to offer the land to Ser Brynden Tully, whilst Edmure rules over Riverrun. I do hope that when you decide to move to Winterfell, you will stay there. It's rather tiresome to upheave your entire belongings cross-country. Yours sincerely, your cousin and the only true Bua heir, Tiernan."

She was laughing again by the time she finished, once again confusing Daenerys. The blonde was rather perplexed how Fianna was not offended by his brutal words.

"It's the way in which we act around each other," Fianna explained, upon noticing how she did not laugh in return. "We have always teased each other."

"He sounds a rather interesting man, this Tiernan," Daenerys smiled softly, setting down her cutlery. "I'd love to meet him some day."

"Not a chance," Fianna shook her head, a smirk lifting up the corners of her lips. "Tiernan would take one look at you and make a crude comment, I can imagine something along the lines of 'I've got a dragon she can ride'."

Daenerys was flustered by the comment, cheeks blushing ever so lightly and bashfully casting her eyes down to her plate.

"Your grace," Tyrion interrupted, and out of habit, Fianna looked up to respond. It took her a second to realise that she was nobody's 'grace' any more. He was holding a small scroll, the seal encasing it capturing Fianna's eye.

It was one she knew well, had even received once or twice, the seal of the Night's Watch. Immediately following, it was as if a sheet of ice had been wrapped around her back. Fianna was filled with a sense of dread and panic, and despite being unaware of its contents, she _knew_ that whatever that scroll said was nothing positive.

Daenerys' demeanour changed when she too noticed it, quickly looking towards Fianna before she took the letter into her own hands. She unravelled it roughly, all too anxious to read what was addressed to her.

It took her mere seconds to finish, and when she did, she shot up from her chair like a dragon into the sky, gesturing with her hand for Fianna to follow. Tyrion took the discarded scroll, eyes skimming over it before widening in horror. He knew instantly what the two women were prepared to do.

"Dany?" Fianna pressed, half-jogging to catch up with her. "What did it say?"

"We need to take the dragons and leave immediately," she spoke rapidly, not giving much of an explanation.

" _We_?" She repeated, mouth parting in shock. Surely Daenerys didn't expect her to fly Viserion? "Daenerys, tell me what happened!"

When she still refused to reply, the Northerner was left with no choice but to grab her arm and whip her around, her fierce eyes meeting icy blue ones - filled with panic.

"They're trapped above the wall, trapped by the white walkers," she finally revealed. It only took Fianna a second to think, before she too was darting off towards the cliffs, Daenerys having to be the one who would run to catch up.

"I'll ride on Drogon with you," she informed her, barely leaving room for argument.

"You can't, there won't be enough room for all of us and them to fit. You need to ride Viserion, you've done it before!" Daenerys half-pleaded, looking almost desperate.

They had reached the cliff now, the two respective dragons immediately soaring down to rest on the cliff head, where they so often did to see their riders.

"No, Daenerys!" Fianna refused, eyes wide with panic. She _knew_ this venture was a bad idea. And now, they were arguing when they _really_ did not have the time to. "I'm not ready! I wouldn't ride a horse into battle without being trained, nor would I swing a sword if I didn't know how to do it properly! I won't put myself and the others at risk."

"Fianna," Daenerys' eyes were wide as she gripped her shoulders, shaking her ever so slightly, "riding a dragon is not like those things. It's in your _blood_ , it'll come naturally to you. Now, _please_."

Fianna wanted to fight her again, but it was pointless. Daenerys wasn't going to let her ride on Drogon with her, it was either the Viserion way or no way. And there was _no way_ she was going to leave her husband to die.

"Stop, you two!" Tyrion had finally caught up to them, just as the two women were approaching their respective dragons. Fianna ignored the imp entirely, while Daenerys chose to respond.

"We have to do this, Tyrion."

"You can't! The most important person in the world cannot ride off to the most dangerous place in the world!" He refuted, following after her as she reached Drogon. "Fianna, for the gods sake you are a _mother_ , don't leave your children orphaned!"

"They're not going to be orphaned they're going to have _two_ parents, I'll see to that," Fianna argued, stepping onto Viserion's wing.

"They knew the risk when they left-"

"Because of _your_ plan," Fianna whipped around to shot, eyes blazing with fury that had been building since Robb had left. "It was _your_ idea to fetch one of the undead fuckers, and now you mean to leave the men behind?"

Realising it was pointless trying to convince a wife to abandon her husband for death, Tyrion turned to Daenerys.

"Daenerys, you can't win the Iron Throne if you're dead! You can't break the wheel if you're dead!"

" _Fuck_ the Iron Throne!" Fianna roared in interruption, stepping further onto Viserion's wing until she neared his back, then mounting atop of him. She had only rode the dragon twice in her life, and could only hope it was enough.

"What would you have us do?" Daenerys asked, but Fianna tuned out their conversation.

Her blood rushed audibly in her ears, so loud that she wondered if anyone else could hear it. All that was running through her mind was the seconds upon seconds it took Daenerys to argue with Tyrion, was seconds that Robb was closer to death.

She wasn't sure she'd be able to handle losing him a second time.

Fianna saw from the corner of her eye that Daenerys was preparing to take off, and quickly she followed after her, Viserion soaring upwards into the sky and whipping air through her loose strands of hair and whistling in her ears.

She couldn't bring herself to feel the enjoyment of riding that she had felt the previous two occasions, for this time, a life was at stake. And her husband's one, at that.

* * *

 _Robb_

It had likely been a day since they had become stranded on a frozen lake, and Robb was cold so long that he barely noticed it any more. Often he would have to move his lips, his beard having frozen up until the tiniest white icicles would form on the hairs.

He sat next to Jon, the two's shoulders pressed together in a desperate attempt for warmth. Heat seemed almost futile now - if they didn't freeze to death soon, they would certainly starve.

To distract himself, from both the cold and the gravity of the situation, Robb spent the hours reminiscing. He liked to think about the first time he saw his children, the first time they called him 'father', which in their childlike tone came across as 'fatha'. He imagined himself, seated in Fianna and his shared chambers, in front of the fire with their children in their laps. He would look upon Fianna and the two would chuckle about how they had reached his point, how glad Fianna was to have her wolfhound chase Grey Wind all those years ago.

Something told Robb their paths would have crossed none the less.

The growls of the white walker they captured had brought him out of his fantasy, brought _everyone_ back to reality. They all stood to inspect the white, but another body laying down caught Beric's attention.

"Thoros," he murmured softly, bending down and giving the Red Priest a slight shake. Robb cast his gaze over his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh when he saw the man's eyes. They were cold, lifeless, and as dead as the creatures surrounding them.

He didn't find the point in grieving. It wouldn't be long before the rest of them, including himself, would be dead too.

"You can say it, you know," Jon voiced quietly beside him, just as Beric began to say a prayer for Thoros' soul.

"Say what?" Robb asked, voice hoarse from the cold.

"Say that you were right," Jon shook his head, gaze cast to look out amongst the enemies surrounding them. "If we had listened to you, we wouldn't be here."

Robb didn't move to deny him, nor stroke his ego, for there was truth behind his words. If they hadn't ventured north, four people would still be alive.

"Maybe you should have kept the crown," Jon suggested, getting up to stand before Robb could answer, but he wasn't intending to anyway. He pondered briefly how different the world would look if he _had_.

He would have left Dragonstone the first time Daenerys would ask for his fealty and his kingdom.

"We need to burn the body," Jon was saying behind him, ripping the flask of alcohol from Sandor's hands and using its remaining contents to pour onto the carcass, which was then lit by Beric's flaming sword.

Robb stood up, finally, not wanting to catch alight along with Thoros - although the prospect of heat was rather alluring.

"You always have a plan, Robb," Jon commented, rubbing his gloved hands together. "Please tell me you have one, now."

Robb looked up in confusion, surprised by his brother's comment. He fumbled with his thoughts for a minute, looking around once more at the scene that he had looked at for a day straight. Jon was right, Robb always had a plan. But his plans rarely stretched to cover a group of men stranded on an ice lake, surrounded by an army of legendary creatures.

They could try swimming under the ice, but the risk of not being able to resurface was too great. Not to mention, they'd have to shed their furs and coats to ensure they wouldn't sink - and subsequently freeze to death, walkers or not.

They could make a run for it - the creatures were somewhat dispersed, perhaps they could split past and outrun them, or hide after reaching a measurable distance away. But again, the risk was too great. For them to even attempt an escape, at least three quarters of the army would need to be wiped out.

"You killed that white back when we captured the other one, and all of them suddenly fell to the ground," Robb commented, eyebrows furrowing with interest as he regarded his brother. "Why?"

"I'm not sure," Jon shrugged. "Best guess is that he had been the one to turn the others."

"Is there any way of telling who these... shall we say, _Lords_ are?" Robb pressed, eyes trying to discern a difference for himself.

"I don't think so," he sighed. They were interrupted by Beric approaching from behind, extinguishing his lit sword into the snow and then holding it high, angling it towards a group of walkers atop the mountain.

Robb had never really took notice of the fact this particular group of five were on horse back, while the rest travelled on foot. He wondered if that made them the superiors.

"We kill that one," Beric pointed the tip of his blade to the white in the centre of the group, who stood out amongst the rest with a sense of authority.

Robb bristled at the sight of him. He couldn't see his eyes, but he felt his gaze trained on him, something that made his skin crawl.

"He's the one who turned them all," Beric explained, and neither Jon nor Robb questioned it, knowing he was more attuned to the Lord of Light than the rest of them. "The Lord of Light didn't bring us back to watch us freeze to death."

* * *

The moment that they realised the ice had refrozen, they would likely mark as one of the worst moments of their lives.

The realisation had come about thanks to Sandor Clegane, who had found great humour in throwing rocks at the surrounding walkers and watching it break their bones without reaction. It would have been humorous in another situation, and Robb would have even laughed, but any hopes for amusement quickly shattered as the last rock to be thrown soared through the air.

It fell short of the walkers, landing on the ice a few feet in front of his target. Immediately, they tensed up anxiously, shooting to stand up and tighten their grip on their weapons.

For there was no splash of water, no crack of ice. Which could only have meant one thing. And for as dumb as they may have been, the whites didn't fail to notice it either.

Once the first walker stepped across the ice, it started a chain reaction, until one by one the front line of enemies began to disperse slowly across the ice, straight towards them.

"Oh fuck," Robb cursed under his breath, lifting his sword high and turning around to see if they were about to be surrounded on all sides - they were. Without having to be told, the group organised itself into a circle, each person with their own area to watch and defend.

Robb was the first to swing, as his target was closest to himself than the others. The dragonglass in his newly formed sword shattered the creature to pieces.

It wasn't long before he realised that he wouldn't be able to keep up with the influx of walkers, that one sword just wasn't enough.

Robb reached for his own sword, which he still carried on his back, hoping it would be strong enough for what he intended to do next. He whirled it through the air and brought the tip down to the ice sheet beneath, using enough force to break through it. Now with a hole in place, Robb reached for a large boulder that rested next to the rock, using all of his strength to knock it onto the tiny crack.

The force was enough, and the boulder fell straight through the weakened structure and spreading until a gaping hole prevented any more whites from crossing to his section. This left a solid quarter of the rock unreachable, and allowed Robb to move and help the others.

"Fall back!" Jon roared, unable to do anything but watch as Tormund was violently knocked to the ground and mounted by half a dozen walkers. Robb shook his head in frustration, and rushed forward to help, but a sudden grip on his ankle knocked him forward until he hit the ground, face first.

His tooth cut through his lower lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth instantly. Robb whipped around to see that, to his horror, Jon's theory that the dead couldn't swim may have been incorrect.

Three of the walkers who had fallen into the hole he created himself had emerged, gripping at his ankles and desperately trying to tug him back. He let out an angry shout, wiggling his feet until he got enough leeway to shoot his foot back and hit the walker square in the face, breaking his jaw clean off.

With one foot free, he used it to swing back around and knock the other walker back into the water. Immediately after being set free, he scrambled to his feet, realising he may have only worsened the problem instead of helping it.

Blood dropped from his mouth, soaking his chin, but he barely noticed. It was the only warm sensation he had felt in days. Himself and the group retreated back to the top of the rock, elevating themselves on a mini-mound. But it wouldn't stop them, for now, the whites merely clambered on top of each other to get up and reach their prey.

There was a split second where Robb debated letting go, letting the walkers devour him and end this prolonged death. But then he happened to look towards Jon beside him, and reminded himself why he came here at all. To protect his King. And his brother.

They met each other's eyes, unspoken words filtering through the air and carrying their shared thoughts. Jon's being "I'm sorry", and Robb's being "I know."

Almost simultaneously, they lifted their swords into the air, deciding that if they were going to go out today, they'd go out fighting until the last second. But before their blades met the walkers incoming bodies, they were interrupted.

With a roar that reached the heavens, and a saving grace that was just as almighty, the three dragons Robb had detested looking upon in Dragonstone soared through the sky above their heads, a breath of flame exhaled from their mouths and immediately ending the creatures it would have taken the men hours to kill.

Their heads tilted back, unanimous exhalations of relief. Even from Robb, who didn't fail to notice a dark haired figure sitting on top of one.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Daenerys had made it look easy. And perhaps for her, it was. But in Fianna's case, she found the cold from their elevated height absolutely choking.

The closer North they got, the more her cheeks reddened and her nose stuffed with mucous. The icy winds that hit her ears and the back of her throat were mind numbingly painful, but Daenerys didn't appear affected. She probably wasn't, being so at one with fire.

It wasn't hard to find the group, all they had to do was look closely in on the flurry of dark figures that were all clustered together. Fianna knew she was too high up to make out individual faces, but she tried anyway.

With a firm tone and an authoritative voice, she spoke the world Daenerys had only taught her days before, praying that her pronunciation was correct.

" _Dracarys._ "

A wave of fire unleashed from the beast beneath her, disintegrating dozens within seconds and leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. Every part of ice that the fire hit, the ice melted beneath, cool water extinguishing the flames.

Grinning through her painfully cold cheeks, she looked over at Daenerys, their two dragons circling each other for a moment before returning to blast the walkers beneath, clearing the area around the group so they could make a safe escape.

It was a different type of warfare, she realised. Fianna was accustomed to the weight of a blade in her hand, the exertion of running across the battle field and the occasional feeling of inferiority that came with her generally smaller size and stature. Something she could never increase, no matter how much she trained.

Sitting on top of Viserion, Fianna felt as if she were the strongest person for miles. She was above everyone else, and they were no match for her or her weapon.

Fianna leaned over and saw that Daenerys was lowering Drogon to the ground, likely to take the rest of the group upon his back. It made sense, for she had the largest dragon, and therefore more would fit.

Spotting a parade of walkers that were sprinting from the hills downward towards the group, she swung Viserion around and annihilated them. How she could so easily control the dragons movements, she did not know.

Fianna circled back around and kept an eye on the group mounting Drogon, however there was one distinct figure that was positioned a couple of feet away, despite the rest of the group already moving closer to Daenerys.

"Fuck," Fianna muttered, her head whipping back and forth between the direction Viserion was heading to and the one who was about to be left behind. She didn't need to have stellar vision to know who it was.

The lower she got, the more she could make out the reddish tones in the individuals hair, proving her suspicions that her husband must have been trying to become some form of a martyr by letting the others go first.

Her breathing hitched in fear, sending Viserion flying closer and closer. Robb continued to fight off the walkers around him, but the more he killed the more came, and as the others were now safely seated on Drogon - he became the prime target.

"Robb!" Jon shouted, beckoning his brother with his hand and worriedly watching as he failed to get any closer to Daenerys.

After slicing through another walker, the 'Night King' - a term Jon had used to describe him, caught his eye. He was still stood on the mountain edge, not at all phased by the fighting beneath enough to join in. For instead of joining, he had a spear in one hand, angled directly into the air and retracted backwards, ready to fire.

His gaze followed the direction in which it was aiming for, and it became immediately clear what, or _who_ would be hit.

"Fianna!" He roared, the loudest he possibly ever had in his life. But she was too engrossed with the fact he was about to be left behind, to realise her own impending danger.

"Robb! Come on!" Beric called when he ignored Jon.

But Robb couldn't hear anything, not while he was in the middle of watching the long spear suddenly shoot through the air, hurtling towards an unsuspecting Viserion and embedding itself into the dragon's side in a fatal hit.

Fianna screamed almost as loud as Viserion, a roaring screech of pain and agony that filled the skies and surely cracked ice from its volume. Seeing that their brother was hurt, Drogon and Rhaegal followed suit, howling with worry as Viserion started to descend chaotically towards the ice.

Gripping the spikes in his back so hard her knuckles cramped, Fianna held on for dear life as he twirled through the air, spinning around and plummeting.

Robb felt as if a hole had been punched in his chest, or as if he were be one to be shot with the spear. He could barely move or think, eyes transfixed on the falling dragon - or more specifically, the brunette woman clinging onto it for dear life.

He was almost certain this would have been the last image of her he would see, and he'd have to explain to his kids one day that their mother died rescuing him.

Fianna herself could feel the dragon's agony, their emotional bond having strengthened over the previous days, solidifying it. Before, she wouldn't have cared less about dragons, and even considered them rather vicious. Now? She felt the loss as if it were her own.

The closer Viserion got, an eerie sensation filled her, where her mind cleared all at once. Almost as if she was calmed, knowing this was the end and that she was about to die. The blankness of her mind startled her, and he hurtled further, it was only within the last few feet that Fianna's grip slipped.

She landed, hard, on her left leg - and the sound that followed, which one might think was ice, was a crack vibrating through her entire body. A tell tale sign she had just broken a bone. But before she could even process the pain, the icy sheet beneath gave way once more, and all signs of daylight disappeared to plunge her into a dark abyss.

Daenerys let out a soft whimper of horror, eyes wide with terror and her lower lip quivering with unshed cries as she watched her one remaining relative and one of her children, plummet to their deaths. The expressions were similar on the rest of the group, who had all known the Lady, some even having grown fond of her.

"Fianna!" Robb let out a roar, ripping his sword through the air and dismantling another white walker, before starting to race toward the hole in the ice.

Viserion was dead, that was a guarantee. His large body had sank into the water lifelessly - and if the spear hadn't killed him, the fall would have. As much as he hated the creatures, he couldn't help but imagine how much worse the damage would have been if Fianna hadn't been on his back for the majority of the fall.

The hole she broke in the ice was a few feet from Viserion, only because she had fallen off in the last minute. At this point, sobs were ripping violently through Robb's throat, but it didn't deter him from sprinting towards her.

Jon and Daenerys were as frozen as the landscape, silently mourning the assured loss of a great woman. It would only last a second though, until Jon had began to notice the Night King happened to have a spare.

"Go! Now!" He roared at Daenerys, snapping her out of her daze as she reared on Jon with furious eyes.

"We can't leave them!"

"Look!" He shouted, pointing his finger towards the being, who was now stepping up to aim once more.

Daenerys hesitated for a split second, not taking her eyes off of the hole and begging for Fianna to resurface. But even if she had, it wouldn't matter, for if they didn't leave now they would all be dead.

Robb barely noticed the remaining winged beasts starting to depart the valley, nor could he bring himself to care. He flung himself onto the ground upon reaching the break, peering over the edge and plunging his hand into the bone-chilling icy cold water, hoping to find her close enough to drag her out.

* * *

 _ **i'm going to be absolutely SLAUGHTERED in the reviews for this chapter, so let's... break it down?**_

 _ **First of all this is 9000 words long. It's by far the longest chapter in the book and the longest I've ever written. I really did not want to rush this chapter at the risk of missing out plot details, so I seriously took my time, I think I must have watched that episode 3 times? I'm a bit sick of it to be honest haha. This chapter was going to be even LONGER, I was going to extend it to write about what happens next but its just far too much for one chapter.**_

 ** _Now me explain, let's start with fianna being a dragon rider. It was something that was increasingly obvious in the previous chapters, but I know that some people won't appreciate it, or feel it's pointless because Viserion died anyway. Which is true, but that's the POINT. Dany wouldn't listen when she said she wasn't ready, and dragonriding didnt come as easy to her as it did for Dany because she isn't fully Targaryen._**

 ** _Next up - the changes to the canon. We can all agree, that although this episode was amazing, there were somethings that were just plain stupid. Take Jon being underwater for an extended period of time, but still surviving despite wearing heavy coats? Why had he even stayed behind in the first place? He waited until the last possible second to get to Daenerys. Personally, I feel it'd be more realistic to have that delay in reaching her because it's Robb and he's trying to save Fianna. The whole underwater thing will be approached as well by the way._**

 ** _I have not stopped typing this weekend, so please don't be too harsh! And one more thing - the next chapter is the last chapter before hiatus. For those who didn't read before when I mentioned it, this book will be going on hiatus as we wait for season 8._**

 ** _Thanks to everyone who supported me and read this book thus far!_**

 ** _scoob96 - completely agree on the Jon front, he was a seriously weak King in season 7. Even bent the knee and gave up the North altogether after fighting for years to secure it. Well not on my watch, Jonny boy! The first dream many chapters ago was rather symbolic of Fianna and Dany's relationship, how she kind of enforces Fianna into joining her. The Aifric dream was specific to Fianna's worries about betraying her family, who hate the Targaryens so damn much. Your message about romantic content got cut off at the end, but I don't necessarily agree there. I think, after 54 chapters and a shit tonne of development that Fianna and Robb are kinda settled. Or domesticated, for want of a better term. They love each other and are married, their relationship is woven into their interactions as the story develops because they're already together. There's no more need for the whole "forbidden romance" aspect that brought them together at the start, if you get me?_**

 ** _Guest - Thank you so so much! It means the world 3_**

 ** _Shannan - Not fire proof exactly, the dream was kind of a manifestation of her fears of accepting her grandmother's lineage and getting closer to daenerys. You predicted that Fianna would ride a dragon, indeed ;) however I gave her Viserion, because I believe Rhaegal is for Jon and Viserion is rather more suited in terms of temperament. Thanks so much for commenting xx_**

 ** _willow441988 - I took it in a very GRRM-esqe way ;_; but I hope you enjoy it!_**

 ** _starevolution1273 - So encouraging as always, thanks so much love! I hope college is going well for you! x_**

 ** _crystal-wolf-guardain-967 - is 9000 words more enough? ;)_**

 ** _padfootette - Awww thank you! I hope you have a lovely day!_**

 ** _-Line - you'll have to read the next chapter and find out muahaha x_**

 ** _babaksmiles - its always so nice when new readers find the book and tell me they binge-read it! And I can't wait to write that part either! Thank you so much, I hope you still read onwards! x_**


	56. (LV) The King in the North

_Song: Running After My Fate by Jean-Pierre Taïeb (trust me on this one)_

 _Fianna_

The icy water she had been plunged into was a mind numbing shock through her system. It took her a few seconds to focus at all - too cold to move, or to even think.

When her lungs began to scream at her from the water she had already inhaled, her natural instincts began to kick in, before she even truly realised where she was or what had happened.

Fianna Stark began to kick violently in the water, the cold temporarily distracting her from the pain in her leg. She knew the second it crunched when she landed, that her leg had been broken. But none of her limbs would be of any use, if she were dead.

Desperately, she grappled through the lake, trying to reach the surface but feeling heavily weighed down. After a couple more seconds of trying, she realised that she was being _physically_ held back, by her own clothing.

The warm fur coat she received at Dragonstone had done its job to keep her somewhat warm, but now it was only proving to be her downfall. Having to move quickly as her limbs began to numb with the cold, she tackled the buttons that held it in place, shrugging it off her shoulders.

With the barrier gone, she tried again to reach the surface, her lungs growing more and more painful the longer she stayed under, until she almost opened her mouth to inhale the water.

As if plunged by the gods themselves, an arm suddenly appeared above her, inserting itself through the gaping gap as if searching for something.

With a final burst of energy her body had been seemingly saving, Fianna kicked upward until she was close enough to grasp onto the hand. As if she were tied to a rope, the saviour used their conjoined grip to heave her upwards.

The second she hit the air it was as if she were being born again, opening her mouth to inhale the air in. She started to cough violently, excess water finding its way out of her throat.

Robb cried out when she reappeared, eyes widened with shock and heart racing so fast he was sure it would burst out of his chest. He reached toward his wife, gripping onto her forearms to keep her afloat and ensure she didn't slip back down.

After finally catching her breath, a shaking Fianna lunged for the ice sheet, clawing her way onto it and half-hauling herself out of the water with Robb's assistance. Now that she could breathe, and wasn't seconds from death, Fianna began to wail.

If her cheeks hadn't been so damp already, they would surely have been by now. Sobs fell from her lips, ones of fright and horror, but mainly of pure agony.

Robb was at a loss. He had seen her cry many times, after all - they had been through almost everything together, but this was different. Normally, she would cry silently, tears flowing with quiet whimpers falling from her lips. Now, the Northern native was positively sobbing, her cries surely loud enough for any nearby wights to hear.

He couldn't bring himself to reassure her that they would find their way out of this, or pretend that their family was coming back to save them. For the first time in his whole life, Robb had taken a complete and utter blank, which terrified him beyond belief.

Noticing how violent her shaking was, and her lack of warm clothing, he clutched onto her and dragged her towards his body. Robb carefully cradled her head against his chest as she continued to cry, making sure they were pressed together as tightly as possible.

He could hear the grunts of the wights nearby, and knew that they were coming closer with every passing second. But perhaps this was how it would end. Maybe their journey stopped here.

"Can you fight?" He whispered into her soaked hair, which only spurred her crying to worsen.

"M-my l-leg," her teeth chattered, and Robb finally realised that she wasn't just crying because she thought they were going to die. Fianna was clutching her upper thigh, staring at her now-obviously disfigured left leg.

"Fuck," he swore, eyes wide as he leaned over her to inspect the damage. He had no training with medicine, but he didn't need to be a maester to know her leg was broken. And without anyone here to set it back, it would impact her ability to walk.

Not that they were going to walk out of here, none the less.

"It's okay, it's okay," he murmured, sobs of his own building in his chest. Robb settled his forehead against the side of her head, so she wouldn't be able to see his tears. "I love you, Fianna."

"Y-you should run," she forced out, her gaze fixating on a group of wights that were heading in their direction. "Leave me here, and g-go home to our ch-children."

"I'm not leaving you here," he responded gruffly, appalled at the suggestion.

"D-do it for them! Please, R-Robb!" Sighing exasperatedly at her insinuations, he cupped her cheek and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead.

"I can't live without you," he revealed, her eyes snapping to his as she realised he wasn't going to leave her. Not now, not ever.

Shrugging his fur off of his shoulders, immediately clamping his mouth closed at the wave of cold that froze his body instantly, he gently wrapped it around her and began to stand. If this was to be their last moments, he wanted it to be as easy as possible for her.

Bending down to pick up the sword he discarded when he tried to save Fianna, he clenched it hard enough for his knuckles to whiten, and raised it high into the air.

Through her shaking, Fianna couldn't take her eyes off of him for one second, not even to look for the incoming wights. He was the most magnificent man she had ever met, she recognised, and if he was to be the last thing she'd ever see - so be it.

"I love you," she managed to whisper, but it's volume got lost in the harsh winds. Seconds away from the wights reaching them, he chanced a glance back down to Fianna, his lips lifting into the tiniest of smiles. It was hard to say who felt more guilty - Fianna for falling through the ice, which prompted Robb to stay behind for her. Or Robb, for leaving to go North at all.

Robb swung his dragonglass blade through the air as the first wight reached them, smashing its bones into smithereens. But before he could even attempt to continue slicing through, although it was a definite lost cause, a fiery light in the distance caught his eye.

The light was accompanied by the shadow of a horse-bound figure, galloping its way through the horde and whacking nearby enemies along the way. Determined to not let it distract him, Robb continued to fight off the wights, until the figure reached them and finished off the remainder in the near vicinity.

It was only when he tugged down his scarf covering his mouth that Robb recognised who it was.

"Uncle Benjen?" He asked, breathless from the shock of the day. He didn't reply immediately, but he didn't have to - it was like looking at his own father, the two were so similar.

Robb didn't have time to question him or himself, not having seen his uncle for nearly eight years and the man having been presumed dead for seven of them.

Benjen bent down quickly and hauled Fianna to her feet, causing a shout of pain to erupt from her mouth as her her foot touched the ground. Her soaked hair was now freezing until crunchy with the ice, and she looked more blue than normal.

Robb rushed toward them, wrapping her free arm over his shoulders. Together, they lifted her forwards until they reached the horse he had rode in on, making sure her feet didn't touch the ground.

Upon nearing the saddle, the duo lifted her off of the ground to straddle her over the horse, but the movement had her whimpering in agony again. In the end, she was forced to sit sideways on the saddle, like a lady wearing a dress would.

"Take her back," Benjen ordered Robb, gesturing with his head for the former king to get on the horse as well.

"What do you mean?" He demanded, pausing with one foot in the stirrup. "Aren't you coming?"

"No room on the horse," Benjen explained in a hurried voice, encouraging him to continue until he was properly seated on the saddle, his arms on either side of Fianna's body to reach the reins.

"Thank you, uncle," Robb told him, but Benjen wouldn't hear it. As much as he thought he could have stayed behind too, sent Fianna off on the horse and fought his way back with Benjen at his side - he couldn't. Robb had played the hero enough today, and Fianna would never make it back on her own.

So as his uncle slapped the horses' behind, he threw one sympathetic glance over his shoulder towards him, before turning back to start the journey to Eastwatch. The image of his uncle being overrun by walkers was one of the most horrifying things he had ever seen, even after all his experiences.

Fianna nuzzled her head against his chest, her body shaking not only from the cold but from her attempts to conceal her sobs.

"What is it?" He asked worriedly. "Is it your leg?"

"What if I can never walk again?" She whispered, looking distraught at the possibility.

"It's only one leg, Fianna," he tried to reason. "You'll be able to walk, trust me."

"But not run," she denied,"or at the least, walk normally..."

Robb couldn't reply to that, for he himself knew there was a good chance of that becoming reality. But limp or not, he would love her endlessly. The fact she had come so close to death yet again, that they _both_ had, left Robb thinking about a lot more than just his journey.

One thing was for sure, the image of his uncle dying to save their lives was one that would be as permanent of a fixture in his life as Fianna's leg.

* * *

 _Daenerys_

"My queen," Jorah spoke softly, not wanting to further upset her. "We'll have to leave soon."

"Not yet," Daenerys answered swiftly, her eyes never straying from the field of snow outstretched before her.

She had been stood at the looking point from the top of the wall for hours now, refusing to budge from her spot. Every single minute that passed she told herself, _in the next minute. In the next minute, she'll appear._

Daenerys hadn't gone deaf in her trance, she could hear Jon and Jorah discussing close behind her. She didn't fail to miss the way Jon defended her actions to Jorah, for he himself was also hoping that Robb and Fianna would appear. He understood her, and that eased some of the pain.

Jon was a rather broody man, she had decided this early on, but he had never quite looked so downtrodden since they had returned to Eastwatch. Guilt and loss weighed heavily on him, perhaps more than it did on Daenerys. She reminded herself that however much pain she felt, it was so much more intensified for Jon. He had known Robb since they were little, brothers in the truest of forms even if they only shared half of each others blood.

Daenerys selfishly held onto her feeling of loss nonetheless, she tried to tell herself that Jon had other siblings he could mourn alongside. Daenerys had no one. Not only had she lost her niece, she had also lost one of her children.

It was somehow worse than the day she lost Drogo and Rhaego, for she somehow knew this wouldn't be the end of the deaths to come.

Jon had joined her side eventually, shivering so much more than she did at the top of the wall - perhaps her veins were filled with fire too. It wasn't long before he too had come to accept the events- they were gone. And freezing to death wasn't going to bring them back.

"Dany," he murmured softly, taking her elbow in his hand. She cringed visibly at the nickname, and his tone. "We have to go, you know there's no chance..."

"Just-" she cut herself off, nostrils flaring as her temper began to rise. "Just wait a little longer."

"We have the wight with us," he continued, "we need to go to King's Landing promptly. I know how you're feeling, believe me, but we'll mourn the dead when the enemy is stopped."

Daenerys felt a sob rising in her throat, and she desperately swallowed it back down. It had been quite a while since she had cried.

"Okay," she agreed finally, her whisper barely heard over the harsh winds.

But just as she had agreed, by divine intervention no doubt, a dark mass could be seen entering the clearing, moving at a slow pace.

"Wait!" She gasped, grabbing Jon's arm and forcing him forward, pointing with her free hand.

Jon's eyes and mouth widened immediately, and with that, he shot off into a run, heading straight for the ladder that would start to lead him down to the bottom.

Daenerys stood still, fearful that if she looked away it would disappear as a figment of her imagination. But it only came closer and closer, until her eyes could make out what looked to be two figures on horseback.

With that sight, she finally turned to follow after Jon, to greet them herself.

* * *

 _Jon_

The gates couldn't have opened fast enough for Jon, who slipped underneath the small opening the second it unveiled - too impatient to wait for it to fully rise.

He ran as hard as he could through the thick snow, which was much harder than one would think after a harsh snow storm. He could immediately make out the features of his brother's face, the curl of his hair hidden beneath a hood and a bundled person huddled against his chest.

He said a silent prayer that Fianna wasn't dead, for he can't imagine how much further damage his brother would suffer if he had to carry the love of his life's body back to safety.

"Robb!" He exclaimed loudly, desperate to be heard through the snow. His heart hammered in his chest, as if _he_ were the one who had escaped death. It was like seeing him for the first time after the Red Wedding all over again.

"Jon," Robb shouted back tiredly, his voice hoarse and coming out as more of a croak. No doubt he was coming down with something. His eyes were fluttering, body begging himself to allow him to fall asleep.

Jon reached the horse after shouting out behind him for help, not waiting to see Davos sprinting after him.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked breathlessly when he reached the horse, hands against the side of the horse. Robb looked exhausted, his face more blue than pale and snow coating his lashes and beard.

"T-take her, Jon," he replied tiredly, tightening his grip around the shivering woman in his arm. The shaking told Jon that perhaps she wasn't dead yet after all.

Jon reached up and placed both hands on her waist, exerting himself as he lifted her into his arms, as one would carry a small babe. He immediately began to rush back to the tunnel, until a harsh thud behind him told him that Robb had fallen off his horse.

"Go!" Davos demanded, himself and Gendry wrapping their hands under the former kings arms. "'Av got him!"

Jon pushed his worry aside in order to sprint back towards the castle, desperate to get towards the heat and to meet someone with healing knowledge. For Fianna was in far worse shape than Robb.

He had reached the former Maester's chambers, where he himself was currently residing it, as he knew a warm fire was blazing and it had a table for an ailing person to lay.

Davos and Gendry were close behind, settling Robb down into a chair beside the fire and wrapping him in warm blankets. The man was lethargic, slipping back and forth between the conscious and unconscious world. But Jon had seen it before with other rangers, he needed to be warmed up both inside and out and given time to rest a night. Then he would be right and ready.

However, Fianna he knew to be in worse condition.

He _saw_ the girl fall through the ice, it was a miracle she had survived until now much less was here in front of him. Doubtless - hypothermia was settling in, and he would have to act fast to stop it.

"Forgive me, brother," he muttered, before reaching for his dagger to cut her still-damp clothes off, politely ignoring the parts of her body that he shouldn't see.

"Is she alright?" A shaky voice called out from the doorframe, Daenerys slowly stepping toward the table but hesitantly. She wasn't sure if Fianna and Robb were fully coherent, and if they'd want to see her.

"I don't know," Jon answered truthfully. Now that Davos had settled Robb in, and had instructed Gendry to make him a hot cup of Nettle Tea to warm him up and fetch more blankets for Fianna, he was able to assist Jon.

He turned his attention to her riding trousers, slicing through them, but it wasn't long before he recoiled in surprise.

"By the gods!" He choked, Jon rolled his eyes - assuming he had simply seen her _lady parts_ , but stopped to look as well when he saw that Davos gaze was further down.

Jon looked and his eyebrows furrowed at the sight - her knee was distorted at an odd angle, pushed to the side and sticking out. No doubt it was broken, as well as her ankle by the looks of it, but neither Jon nor Davos knew how to reset breaks in such places.

"What is it?" Daenerys demanded, stepping up to the table and gasping herself. Her hand fell to her stomach, tears reaching her eyes as she realised the full extent of their decision to go North. The guilt was indescribable, between Jon and herself.

Gendry soon returned, and Fianna's naked body was redressed in clothing meant for a smaller man. Blankets bundled around her and the table dragged closer to the fire. The bastard son headed towards Robb, who was incoherently mumbling to himself, with a cup of tea in hand. Carefully, after blowing on it, he brought the cup to his lips and began to let its contents fall into his mouth and down his throat.

Seconds afterward, a choking sound was heard, and several glares were thrown in Gendry's direction. It had seemed to do the trick, although, as Robb shot up in his seat, wiping his mouth viciously.

"What the bloody hell is that?" He demanded in disgust, eyes glancing around the room in confusion before they landed on the face of his wife, entirely unconscious.

All that could be seen was her head, as the rest of her body too tightly bundled. Robb looked absolutely heartbroken by the sight, which ironically broke the hearts of every person in the room.

Slowly he rose, but then he rushed toward the table, his hands cupping her cold cheeks and his lips pressing kisses against her forehead.

"I think she'll be alright," Jon decided to speak up, fearful of Robb's mood. "She'll need a few days to rest."

"Did you see her leg?" His hoarse voice croaked in return. Jon nodded sadly. "Do you think she'll ever walk again?"

Jon didn't answer.

"I've seen many a man break his leg and walk again, lad," Davos offered encouragingly, "they walked with a limp in their step, but they walked."

Robb nodded, looking as if he had a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He would love his wife if she were crippled or not, but he knew first hand how much pain Bran was in to struggle with the simple things in life. But of course, Bran had broken his back - not a single leg.

Robb turned and dragged his chair towards the table, bundling up again with his free hand as his other was underneath Fianna's blankets, curled around her hand.

Daenerys let out a soft sigh, trying to maintain composure as she ventured towards Robb, ready to offer her sympathies and apologies. But ultimately, she was stopped by Jon's hand on her shoulder. She looked at him in confusion, but he simply tilted his head and gestured towards the door.

Together, they walked until they were outside and completely alone.

"What is it?" Daenerys initiated, eyebrows furrowed.

"Something tells me Robb doesn't want to talk right now," Jon sighed, rubbing his cold hands together with a grim expression. "I'd guess he blames us for their situation."

"It _was_ us," Daenerys replied, her tone flat but her eyes betraying her demeanour, for they were filled with sadness and worry. "He told us not to venture North, _both_ of them did."

"What's done is done now," Jon tried to comfort her, "we should feel thankful we didn't lose any more than we did."

"There's more..." Daenerys admitted, hanging her head in shame. "When we readied to leave Dragonstone... Fianna wanted to ride on Drogon with myself. She practically begged me, told me she wasn't ready to ride Viserion into battle, but I wouldn't listen."

"Why?" Jon asked, eyes scanning her face. He was unsure of what to think about this.

"I thought that it would come naturally to her, with her Targaryen blood," she revealed in a low voice.

"I think that was a mistake," he answered, continuing when she looked back at him, "you've been acting as if she was fully Targaryen this entire time. But Fianna wasn't telling you she's a Bua out of stubbornness."

"It's typical," she scoffed, the corners of her lips turned down. "I've barely begun my reign and already it's starting to become my downfall."

"I disagree," he refuted, causing her head to snap to look at him in surprise. "You took a risk to save us, despite the fact you barely believe in white walkers to begin with. You _listened_ to us, and suffered as a result. I think you'll make a great Queen. And that the Seven Kingdoms will survive under your reign."

Daenerys' lips parted in shock at his words, particularly, she honed in on his use of the words _Seven Kingdoms_ , instead of five. Was he suggesting what she had hoped he would agree to for months now?

But before she could even begin to ask, the sound of the door opening behind them interrupted the conversation.

Jon blanched at the sight of Robb at the door, his sharp blue eyes flicking back and forth between the two suspiciously. He internally begged that Robb hadn't heard his conversation, but if he had, he wasn't going to comment on it just yet.

"Can you see if there are any more blankets?" He asked his brother, although his eyes still flickered to Daenerys, who's nervous demeanour didn't help.

Without waiting for an answer, Robb shut the door swiftly.

* * *

 _Fianna_

When first she awakened, the only thing she was able to make sense of was that she was very _warm_. The weight of several blankets were heavy on top of her, and she scrambled her hands up from her sides to shove them off.

The motion caught the attention of her husband, who had been busy writing a scroll on the desk in the room. Jon had officially handed the room to Robb and Fianna, although they had only been staying in it since the evening before.

"You're awake," he murmured happily, a smile brightening up his features as he dropped his quill and made a move towards the bed, settling to sit down beside her body.

"Hi," she replied with a small smile, voice hoarse from being asleep. It took her a second before the events of the day before transpired, and Robb could tell immediately by her suddenly shocked expression when the memories hit.

"You're okay," he soothed, reaching his hand over and cupping her warm cheek. "We're safe now."

She nodded quietly, deciding to save her voice whenever possible and leaned into his palm.

"How am I looking?" She asked tiredly, well aware she most likely looked terrible if her aching body had anything to say about it.

"As beautiful as always," he smirked, leaning down and pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead. Fianna rolled her eyes playfully, but revelled in his attention none the less.

"And what about...?" She nodded with her head towards her legs, which were covered by the thick furs surrounding her.

"You've broken your ankle, for sure, and they think you may have broken your knee," he explained, wincing before continuing. "One of the wildlings was able to set your knee back, but your ankle..."

"My ankle is fucked," she answered for him, her eyes lowering from his face to raise to the ceiling. Fianna blinked rapidly to stop tears forming, but Robb knew her better than that. Gently, he reached his hands out and cupped her own in his- she immediately responded by squeezing his fingers.

"I'm a warrior, Robb," she whispered, afraid if she talked too loud she'd break and cry. "It's what I'm best at. How am I going to fight if I'm falling behind everyone else?"

"If Jaime Lannister can swing a long sword with one hand," Robb pointed out, lowering himself down so he was close to her, "then a woman who's twice the warrior he is can still fight."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," she couldn't help but chuckle, his words already easing some of the loss.

"Or maybe I'm just really honest and I'm telling the truth," he smirked, pecking the tip of her nose. "You don't need to be able to run to swing a sword, Fianna. You're not a horse."

"Really? I've been mounted by you enough times, I'm starting to get confused-" she joked, cut off by Robb's belting laughter and light shoulder shove. When the amusement died down, a soft look remained in Robb's eyes as he regarded upon his wife.

"You know I'll love you, and so will our children," he informed her, causing her cheeks to flame in a flattered blush.

"I have something to tell you," he began, causing her brows to furrow in concern. "I wouldn't have done this so soon after you've awakened, but they're leaving today, and before I do anything drastic - you deserve to know."

"What is it?" She demanded, moving to sit up in the bed and lean against the headboard.

When Daenerys entered Fianna's room hours later, she did so apprehensively. The Northern lady had specifically requested to see her, and while her aunt was all the more happy to hear she was well - she was not looking forward to having to look her in the eye.

The guilt didn't cease any, and would likely increase tenfold if Fianna were to agree that it was her fault everything happened.

She knocked on the door first, and after hearing a tentative 'come in', entered. Fianna was sitting up fully, her legs hanging over the side of the bed as she ran a brush through her long, dark locks.

Daenerys' eyes immediately caught onto her leg, which was wrapped up tightly with fabrics and a tied cord to prevent her knee from slipping back out of place. They also wrapped her ankle, in the hopes it would help it somehow. So far, this proved unsuccessful.

The dragon queen loitered by the door, her hands clasped in front of her as she waited for Fianna to speak. But all she did was stare - her burning eyes fixed on Daenerys' nervous demeanour. She fidgeted under her gaze.

"You asked to see me?" She questioned, hating how weak she suddenly sounded. After all, she was a _queen_ , and here she was practically cowering in the presence of a mere lady.

"I did," Fianna set her brush down on the table aside the bed, which also happened to hold a tray of uneaten dinner delivered to her. She patted the space beside her on the bed, gesturing Daenerys to sit next to her, which she did.

"Tell me," she finally continued after a moment of prolonged silence, "if you had come here and Westeros wasn't under threat, would you have tried to conquer the North?"

Daenerys visibly recoiled at the seemingly random question, but Fianna had now turned her head to look directly at her, waiting for an answer.

"Yes, of course," she answered without further hesitation. "The _seven_ kingdoms are my birthright."

"No they're not," Fianna couldn't help but argue. "If anything, Gendry is the rightful heir, even if he is a bastard. The Targaryens were usurped by the Baratheons."

"By _traitors_ ," she insisted, bristling at her honesty.

"Oh, I suppose you'd rather it if Westeros just continued to suffer under Aerys' cruelty because he was the rightful _heir_?"

"My father was a cruel man, I have asked you before not to punish me for his mistakes-"

"Perhaps I should punish you for your own," Fianna cut her off. "Or ones that you intend to make."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her jaw clenched. The awkward air had suddenly become extremely tense.

"You came here with Fire and Blood, to conquer our land after we had liberated it," Fianna sighed, although she appeared calm. Eerily calm. "If we were not of the same blood, I'd imagine you'd have burned my family and I for refusing to bend to your will."

Daenerys stayed silent, the image of the Tarly family being completely wiped out under her command replaying in her head.

"I came to you because you asked me to," Fianna began, turning to angle her body towards her. "Because I _knew_ who you were. Well I'm asking you now, to look me in the eye and swear that when this war is over you will not touch the North or the Riverlands."

Daenerys didn't move an inch except to flick her gaze to meet Fianna's. This time, she didn't cower under its underlying ferocity, nor was she nervous. Fianna was asking Daenerys to give up part of her dream, part of her _birthright_.

It was an answer she barely had to consider.

"I can't do that," she simply said.

Fianna nodded, her lips pursed, as if she already knew the answer before hearing it. She raised her eyebrows high, and lifted her lips in the smallest of smiles.

"But Fianna, I'd never kill you. Or your family."

"You truly think the North would ever follow a Targaryen again?" Fianna chuckled incredulously.

Daenerys didn't answer, her face saying it all, and Fianna picked up on her thought process immediately.

She didn't intend to give them the _choice_.

"Then I just want you to know," Fianna leaned in, her voice dropping low but her words dripping with threat. "When this is over, if you so much as lift a foot with the intention of placing it on Northern ground - I'll kill you, Daenerys Targaryens."

It had been a while since mere words had left a chill in her spine, but the firmness in her voice and the coldness in her eyes had told Daenerys that Fianna Stark meant what she said. And just like that, any semblance of a familial bond they had been beginning to develop was shattered.

"You do realise I could have _you_ killed," she retorted, swallowing down her fury. "You have just threatened a Queen."

With a movement so sharp she almost would have missed it if the object Fianna picked up wasn't angled at her face, she had reached for the dinner knife on her table and directed it inches from the blondes neck. Daenerys let out a horrified gasp, her entire body freezing instantly. She was determined not to appear weak or frightened, but it was near impossible.

"Your dragons and armies can't protect you from everything," Fianna warned, "and _that's_ how easy it would have been to kill you." With those final words, she tossed the knife back onto her plate, allowing Daenerys to swiftly stand up and make a beeline for the door.

"Dany?" Fianna called out as her hand poised over the door handle, causing her to pause in waiting. "I never want to have to see you again."

Daenerys didn't look over her shoulder again, and Fianna was glad for it.

Their detachment was painful, for there was no denying a bond had been formed in the weeks she stayed at Dragonstone. But however much she loved her Aunt, she loved her children and her kingdom so much more. Fianna did not pour her blood, sweat and tears into a free North for Daenerys to force everyone back down to their knees.

As Robb said after he was crowned all those years ago - from this day and until the end of days, the North is a free and independent kingdom.

* * *

 _Robb_

He had cleverly waited until Daenerys had gone to Fianna's chambers at her request, before he decided to seek his half-brother out.

Himself and Fianna had spent the last few hours discussing their options - particularly focusing in on how the King and Queen hadn't listened to their sound advice when offered. And how their strategies had led to the death of four, almost five, people.

Robb hadn't trusted Daenerys since the beginning - the very name _Targaryen_ was enough to preinstall a certain degree of paranoia. The three, now two, dragons she carried in tow only furthered it. But what really reinforced his idea that the North would not be safe in her hands was the trip above the wall.

Originally, Robb hadn't any sense of doubt in handing over the crown to Jon. He always considered him to be of sound mind, to be level headed and generally smart. But he didn't miss the words spoken outside of his chambers between Jon and Daenerys, and guessed if he hadn't interrupted his brother, he would have handed over their kingdom to Daenerys.

Too much blood had been shed to ever allow another ruler to take over the North. Even if Gendry had rose up and decided to lay claim to the Seven Kingdoms, Robb wouldn't allow it. Too much of his family had been lost to non-Northern rulers, his parents, his grandfather and his uncle to name a few.

And if Jon was willing to put that aside for a foreign queen, one who would try to enforce the North's loyalty, then he regretted ever stepping down as King at all.

"Jon," Robb greeted, finding him alone in an old dining hall. His head snapped up immediately, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of his brother with minor nervousness.

"Robb," he returned, refocusing his gaze on the scrolls in his hands. Unsure of how to broach the subject, and knowing he'd have to act fast while Fianna told Daenerys exactly what she thought, he sat down across from him.

"You know I heard you," Robb stated, not asking a question he knew the answer to. Jon swallowed, looking rather tense all of a sudden.

"Yes."

"Might I ask," Robb started, making a gesture with his hand as he kept his voice level, "what in the seven hells you were thinking?"

"She rode North, without any belief in the White Walkers to save _us_ , Robb," Jon tossed the scroll to the side, leaning in over the table. "How can you not think she has the heart to be our Queen?"

"The heart?" Robb hissed. "If you hadn't have offered the North up on a dinner tray to her she would have taken it anyway. Your words don't _matter._ I trusted you to be King because I thought you understood the Northerners."

"There won't _be_ any Northerners if we don't stop them! And we can't stop them without her!" Jon began to raise his voice.

" _She_ is the one who made this about politics, Jon," Robb shot up from his seat, slamming his palms hard enough on the wooden table to create an echoing smack sound. "If she cared enough about her 'people' to save their lives, she wouldn't have needed your fealty in the first place. What has she been saying for _weeks_ now about helping stop them? That she wouldn't unless you _bent the knee_!"

"I am looking out for my people, Robb," Jon dropped his volume, staring with a fierce look upon him.

" _Your_ people will never support this."

"That's the thing," Jon shook his head, "they're _my_ people. You are my brother, but you are not King. What I say is what goes."

"We'll see about that," was all Robb replied, an undertone to his voice that made Jon slightly anxious. His eyes followed him as he turned to march out of dining hall, wondering what Robb had in mind.

* * *

Jon and Daenerys departed for King's Landing that evening, but it was another few days before Fianna felt well enough to travel. They were headed in the complete opposite direction - they were going home.

Without choice, Fianna had to travel by carriage - much to her dismay. Her leg would be in a bad condition for weeks, and she'd have to make sure not to push it too far in that time, in case she caused further damage.

They were heading towards Baelfort, a journey that would take upwards of a week, to collect their children and then relocate to Winterfell. Fianna was excited at the prospect of seeing her children again, if not a little frightened. She feared that they wouldn't remember her - highly unlikely, she knew. But a fear nonetheless.

The week and a half long journey to Baelfort consisted purely of Robb and Fianna deliberating. They went over every plan, every strategy - but every answer brought them back to one. One that would drive a permanent wedge between Robb and his brother, and solidify the silent war brewing between Fianna and Daenerys. But one that was, ultimately, the most preferable for themselves and for the North.

The inhabitants of Baelfort must have seen that they were coming, for they were gathered in the courtyard waiting their impending arrival.

As she looked out the small window, Fianna didn't fail to notice the numerous tents littered around, her brows furrowing in confusion at the sight. But she was quickly distracted when she saw the sight of her true family waiting - Bonifer, Tiernan, Eddie and Aifric.

Embarrassingly, Robb had to lift her down from the carriage, and supply her with wooden makeshift crutches that he carved in Eastwatch.

The twins squeaked in excitement at the image of the parents, immediately barrelling forward towards them. Robb crouched down to catch Aifric up in his arms, his eyes twinkling with adoration, while Fianna had to toss down one of the crutches and lean on the other one to wrap her arm around Eddie's head. She hated that she was unable to bend down much to greet him.

Robb and Fianna marvelled over how much the two had grown in the space of three month, if not simultaneously sharing guilt for leaving at all. Aifric's red-toned hair almost reached the middle of her back, while Eddie's had darkened significantly as he grew - matching the shade of his mother's now instead.

Frustrated with her inability to hold them, Fianna dropped down to her uninjured knee and tossed herself down on the ground so they could embrace properly. She couldn't believe she had ever mustered the strength to leave in the first place.

Being a mother was an indescribable feeling, the smallest things like the smell of their hair or the way they looked at her made her heart swell with love each and every time.

She wasn't sure she'd ever love anyone as much as Robb, and especially not after she had first lost him - until the twins came along.

Tiernan and Bonifer gave them a moment together, sharing a glance in that time at the sight of Fianna's wrapped up leg and her inability to walk. When finally she broke apart from the embrace that was shared between Robb, Fianna and their children, she looked up to beam at them.

Robb helped her stand once more, settling the wooden sticks beneath her armpits so she could make her way towards them too.

Tiernan wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing her tightly, while Bonifer - the less emotional one of the two - settled for stroking the side of her hair.

"You silly girl," he remarked, an undeniable sadness in his voice as he looked at her twisted foot. "What happened?"

"I have so much to explain, grandfather," she sighed, Tiernan wrapping his arm around her shoulders for support as her crutches fell from his embrace.

Robb loitered in the background, still crouched down to embrace his children but the bounding of paws against the ground disrupted that. He was too slow to turn his head, as Grey Wind came sprinting over and knocked him flat on his back.

"Grey Wind," he huffed, unable to find it within himself to be angry at the dire wolf. The wolf had certainly missed him, nuzzling his muzzle against his face and sniffing him to gather the scent that he held. Undeniably, Robb missed him too.

"Grey!" Eddie giggled childishly, reaching out and patting his fur. It appeared their direwolf had also acquired a nickname for himself.

"Well we want to hear it," Tiernan answered Fianna, allowing her to lean on him as she hobbled towards the castle, the twins and Robb following closely behind.

"Why are there so many tents?" She questioned, casting a glance around.

"A couple of my men at the Twins wanted to come back home when I did, we're having a bit of a problem finding room for them all."

Aifric was sat on her mother's untouched knee, with Fianna brushing her hands through her curls as she relayed the story to her cousin and grandfather. Eddie was sat on Robb's, who looked extremely tense as the story continued. The more he thought about Daenerys and Jon, the angrier he got. And he wasn't the only one.

"This is absolute bollocks!" Tiernan bellowed, standing up abruptly and casting an apologetic gaze towards Aifric after she covered her ears. "Why didn't you tell me you were part Targaryen?"

"It was practically instilled in this family to hate them, I was too ashamed to admit it, Tiernan," Fianna calmly explained. Robb shuffled Eddie off of his lap, prepared to step in if Tiernan were to get angry with her.

"I warned you, girl," Bonifer sighed, running his hand over his balding head. "You play with fire, and you'll get burned."

"I know, grandfather," Fianna admitted, looking down at the table in shame.

"If there's one thing we can take from this trip," Robb began standing up so he could place his hands on the table, "it's that we made a grave mistake in abdicating. My brother, the King in the North, intends to bend the knee to Daenerys. And it's only a matter of time before he does."

"Are you serious?" Tiernan hissed, eyes wide with fury. "Has he learned _nothing_ from our history? The North will never follow a Targaryen!"

"And we don't intend to force them to," Robb announced, sharing eye contact with Fianna. After receiving the smallest of nods, he took her encouragement and used it to proclaim his next words. "I intend, _we_ intend, to ride to Winterfell and ask the Northerners to reclaim me as their King."

Tiernan and Bonifer's eyes widened dramatically, although the former's were full of shock - Bonifer actually appeared excited.

"Well," he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "It's about damn time."

"Then I'll join you," Tiernan proclaimed, "you'll have support from the Lord of Baelfort."

"Are you certain you just don't want to go to see a certain redhead?" Fianna teased, causing his lips to quirk in amusement, although he didn't deny it.

* * *

It took another week and a half for them to quickly pack belongings and to reach Winterfell. Fianna knew that the meeting with Cersei in King's Landing was also happening on the same day, where Daenerys would ask for her help in defeating the Northern threat.

She didn't want to know how it went down, for she could already guess. Cersei would never embarrass herself by being seen as an ally to the Targaryen who meant to conquer her.

When finally they reached the stronghold, they were welcomed warmly by Arya, Sansa, Rickon and Bran.

It had been years since Robb had seen his crippled brother, and it shocked him into silence the first time he saw him. He looked so much like an adult now, instead of a boy.

When his shock broke, he rushed forward to Bran, who was seated in a wooden wheeled chair, embracing him tightly and thanking the gods to be blessed with a family that had survived everything they had.

"Look at you, Bran," Robb mumbled, leaning back and ruffling his hair, a teary smile developing. "You're a man now."

"He says he's not a man, he's a _Three Eyed Raven_ ," Rickon interrupted, a teasing tone in his voice as he rolled his eyes. Robb turned to look at Bran in confusion.

"It's true," Bran said, his voice awfully monotone and rather unexcited. Robb twitched his eyebrows in mild surprise at his indifference.

"What does that mean?"

"Don't bother," Sansa interjected, an exasperated tone in her voice. "We've tried to ask him and he only gets more cryptic by the day."

Fianna, deciding to come forth and offer her own greeting, hobbled forward on her wooden crutches and settled for placing a hand on top of his. He looked down at it with a simple expression.

"Hi, Bran," she greeted warmly, offering a smile. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello, Fianna," he responded, meeting her gaze. His next words were spoke low enough for only her to hear. "I saw what you did for our mother, it was very kind of you."

Fianna inhaled sharply, her smile dimming as Bran looked at her knowingly. How could he have seen what she did with Catelyn's body? Was he waiting in the woods while Fianna gave her a worthy send off?

She stepped back, obviously weirded out, but trying to stay calm in front of Robb.

"What happened to your leg?" Arya demanded cheekily, marching up until they were beside each other and looking down at it worriedly. Although she was merely asking the question everyone else was too scared to.

"Arya!" Sansa scolded.

"She had quite a fall," Bran answered for her, and Fianna had to silently beg that he wouldn't reveal what exactly she fell _from_. "But don't worry Fianna, you'll walk again. You'll never sprint, but you'll walk."

"Okay," she whispered, eyes widened. His words were eerie and his entire demeanour gave her chills. "You simply must stop that, Bran. I'm getting rather weirded out."

"And there's my darling niece and nephew," Sansa practically cooed, crouching down to meet the two twins who were cowering fearfully behind their father's legs. They had met everyone before, but were too young to truly remember them completely, or at least enough to be comfortable with them.

Aifric, being the more forward of the twins, stepped towards Sansa confidently, while Eddie still cowered behind Robb.

Swooping the little one up in her arms and resting her on her hip, Aifric squealed with happiness in Sansa's arms. Robb smiled at the scene, knowing that one day, Sansa would be a good mother to children of her own. It even looked perfect now, as Aifric strongly favoured her Tully/Stark genetics and looked a lot like Sansa.

"Be still my heart," a thick-accented voice sounded from behind them, all turning to reveal a grinning Tiernan dismounting his horse. "Now I have two beautiful redheads in my life."

Sansa's cheeks flushed at the sight of him, something Fianna and Arya smirked at and shared a glance over. The lady hadn't been expecting to see the Bua Lord so soon again, and found herself excited. Although she'd never admit that to him, of course.

"Lord Tiernan," she greeted formally, settling Aifric down onto the ground and barely noticing as the child ran off to poke her brother.

"Mother," Eddie's quiet voice broke Fianna away from watching the scene unfold. He was tugging on her skirts, looking up at her with nervous eyes. "I'm hungry."

"Of course, my love," she spoke softly, smiling warmly at her son and nodding her head towards Robb to signal that she was going to the kitchens. "Grey Wind," she clicked her tongue.

Immediately, the large mass of grey fur stepped towards them, lowering himself down so that Eddie could sit on his back. Fianna often disapproved of this habit that had formed between her children and the direwolf, but she herself wasn't unable to lift Eddie currently, so she wouldn't take that away from him.

"Are we sticking with the formalities?" Tiernan smirked cheekily, leaning in and wrapping his arms around her tightly, taking her totally by surprise. She gasped quietly in shock, refusing to budge as he squeezed her in a hug. Eventually, she gave in, and wrapped her arms around him in return.

"Ah! The ice queen has melted!" He chuckled, letting go of her and casually brushing a stray lock of red hair away from her face, unaware that her burning cheeks weren't from the bitter cold air. He turned to Arya, giving a quick wave. "Hi, Arya!"

"Let's not pretend you came here to see anyone but Sansa," she smirked knowingly, ignoring the furious gaze Sansa was throwing her way as she turned on her heel to talk to Robb.

"Woah," Robb murmured, eyes following a cloth-covered corpse that was being carried out from the great hall. "What happened?"

"It's Petyr Baelish," she explained, uncaringly, only elaborating when Robb looked down at her again. "He tried to get Sansa to have me killed, whilst also simultaneously trying to get Sansa to love him. He also was the reason our father was captured in King's Landing, and killed our aunt Lysa."

"Well," Robb huffed, anger flaring up inside that he wasn't able to see the deed being done himself. "Good riddance to him."

* * *

"Another meeting?" Lord Manderly cried out, "by the gods, we need to be at home in the heat with our families!"

"Where is our King?" Lord Cerwyn bellowed, full of distaste. "He runs off to the Targaryen as soon as we name him King, and he still has yet to return. We need the King in the North in the North!"

" _AYE!"_

"That's _why_ I have asked you all here today," Robb pleaded, trying to keep himself calm before he too would fall to their level and shout for not being heard.

The Lords and Lady gathered stared up expectantly, and it was that moment that Robb began to doubt his decision. His next words had the potential to ruin his relationship with his brother, and never had he thought politics would separate them.

But Robb tried to remind himself that Jon didn't consider that when he was about to bend the knee to Daenerys.

"Jon has been blinded by his fear of the white walkers," Robb began, aware that the rest of his family's eyes were on him too. Not even they were aware of what he was about to say, except for Fianna. "He means to bend the knee to Daenerys Targaryen, and give the North to her in exchange for her assistance in dealing with the Northern threat."

The heads of his sisters and brother snapped so quickly toward him, he was sure they'd nearly break themselves. Bran stayed unresponsive, probably already knowing what Robb's intentions were.

" _IS HE A FOOL?"_

 _"THE NORTH WON'T STAND FOR THIS!"_

 _"AFTER EVERYTHING THE MAD KING HAS DONE!"_

"Robb, what are you doing?" Arya stood up and leaned over Sansa, voice desperate and hushed. As much as she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, she still held a close bond with Jon, and didn't want to turn the North against him.

"What he has to do," Fianna answered for him, still seated on Robb's other side. She too, felt guilty for the way they were approaching this - but they had no other choice. They had to end Daenerys' reign on the North before it even began.

Sansa stayed silent, looking as if she followed a bug. She too, couldn't believe what she was hearing. But rather opposite to Arya, she was angry at the revelation about Jon. This felt like a betrayal.

Tiernan tried desperately to meet her eye from across the room, but Sansa didn't lift her gaze from the small blood stain that remained where Petyr Baelish once stood in the centre of the ground.

"I did not lose most of my men, and my family, for the North to go back to the way it was," Lord Dustin interjected. "Burn me all you want, I have no more knees left to bend."

"I'm telling you this so you have a choice," Robb shouted over the humdrum of voices. "Because you _deserve_ a choice."

"Jon didn't do this out of love for the woman, he did this to fight the white walkers and save us," Fianna called out, finally finding her voice. "But Daenerys Targaryen came to Westeros to conquer the Seven Kingdoms. She was given the opportunity to fight at our side, and pointedly denied it until Jon would bend the knee. She would have let us die, had she not seen the threat with her own eyes."

"Aifric Bua would rise from her grave if she heard this!" Tiernan hollered, receiving shouts of agreement from the rest of the Lords and Lady's. The only one silent that they could see, surprisingly was Lyanna Mormont. For once, she had nothing to say, or was rendered entirely speechless.

When finally she did speak, it was directed at Robb.

"You said we had a choice, how is that so?"

Robb hesitated, looking down once again at his siblings and wife for any semblance of encouragement, but all were looking elsewhere. He prayed that his father, wherever he may be, would agree with his next offer.

"You can choose to follow Jon, he'll likely be named Warden of the North and you will bend the knee to the Targaryen Queen," Robb sighed, his voice decreasing in volume. The only thing pushing him to continue was the voice inside of his head that told him _this_ was right. "Or you can choose to follow me again. As your King. And we will stay a free and independent kingdom."

For the first time in his life, all the Northerners were silent, heavy looks of concentration on their faces. Robb was telling them to pick between brothers - brothers who had both served as Kings, for the sake of the North.

"How will you protect us from the Northern threat?" Hatrick Hornwood questioned, thinking about the safety of himself and his family.

"The only way I know how," Robb answered. "We fight."

"And what happens if Daenerys Targaryen swoops down on her dragon and burns us all?"

Robb didn't immediately have an answer to this. But Fianna did.

"Dragons are not immortal. Anything that can be born, can be killed."

Her husband looked down at her in mild surprise, shocked that she had seemed to completely turn against her Targaryen side once and for all. He wouldn't lie and say it wasn't a relief.

"I'm with Robb!" Lord Mazin announced. "Dragons be damned. You never should have gave your crown to your brother, boy."

"I'll support your reign, my lord," Lord Hornwood sounded out again, an anxious expression on his face. "But if it comes to the life or death of my family, I'll have no choice but to bend the knee."

"Lady Fianna's reign were some of our best years," Wyman Manderly added, whipping out his sword and slamming it down on the table. "The North thrived without paying taxes to King's Landing. Our food and grain were kept to ourselves. I know which brother I'm supporting."

"As do I," Sansa's tinny voice arose, much to Arya's fury. She ignored the dark eyes burning into the side of her face, as she rose up and stood next to her eldest brother. "We swore to never again bend the knee. And we never will."

Arya bit her lip in anger, hating that Robb was singlehandedly turning everyone against Jon, even if Jon had technically done that himself.

Bran stayed apathetic, the entire situation meaning nothing to him, for he had information that would push everyone over the edge had he chose to share it. He looked at Fianna in the corner of his eye. How curious a sight it was, he thought, how she had so little of an idea that it wasn't just her aunt she was turning against - but her cousin too.

Rickon looked rather frightened. Although he was much older now since the first time Robb had been hailed King, he didn't want to have to choose between his brothers.

It wasn't long before the chants broke out, echoing throughout Winterfell once again. It was something Fianna had heard a total of four times in her life, and she had sincerely hoped it would be the last.

 _"THE KING IN THE NORTH! THE QUEEN IN THE NORTH!"_

* * *

Robb and Fianna were seated in the Godswood, watching in amusement as Bran and Aifric smashed wooden sticks together in an attempt to mimic a battle. Whenever one child would overstep or aim anywhere other than their opponents stick, their parents were quick to interfere.

"Jon may never speak to me again," Robb sighed to Fianna, his hand clutched in her own. She swallowed down, eyes cast to the ground before her gaze lifted to analyse his expression.

"Do you regret it?" She dared to ask.

"No," he said without hesitation. "I thought it would be better for them. To pass on the line of succession and make sure they lived simple lives. But I never want their father to burn to death, nor for them to live under someone else's rule."

"Perhaps the only way we can make sure that they don't see the horrors we have," Fianna mused, her brows creased, "is to make sure they grow up in a world where such horrors don't come to exist again."

"You're right, as always," he teased, using his free hand to tuck her dark hair behind her ears.

"Well, whatever happens," she smiled softly, something she couldn't help but do when she regarded upon him, "I'll be at your side."

"And I at yours," he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to her cold cheek. "I love you, my queen."

"And I love you, my king."

* * *

 ** _i've outdone myself again. 10 AND A HALF THOUSAND LADIES AND GENTS. MERRY CHRISTMAS._**

 _ **First of all? Don't hate me! I mean, lets face it I'd be freaking pissed if I had to fight for the North for 7 whole ass seasons just to give it up to Daenerys. I love Dany, she's the reason I started watching the show and I'm not bashing her, but I just feel like throughout this whole book there wasn't a chance in hell the Northerners would bend the knee to her. And I doubt they will in season 8. This was my plan since I finished season 7.**_

 _ **i also feel the whole scenario above the wall makes sense here than in the show. what's more believable, Jon staying underwater for a prolonged time with heavy clothing and still surviving, or Fianna's escape? As for Benjen, that was such a titanic scenario in the show. There was no reason for him not to get on the horse too. At least here, there wasn't any room haha**_

 _ **So... you've had war of the five kings... who wants war of the three queens? Or instead of dance of dragons... dance of wolves?**_

 _ **Remember that we never saw Jon and Dany's POV this chapter. So you'll have to wait and see if they ended up together in this story like they do in the show.**_

 _ **Speaking of season 8, sadly, this is where I leave you until then. This book is going on hiatus until Season 8 is finally upon us. I sincerely hope that if you enjoy this book that you'll come back to read it in April. This book has been a whirlwind, and a year long journey. I will likely go back and edit the first half because I'm not 100% happy with it.**_

 _ **For anyone that wants to see one-shots/drabbles of Robb/Fianna, or them with the twins, or maybe even Tiernan/Sansa, keep an eye on the WIMH: Extras book I have on here!**_

 _ **Until then, thank you so so much everyone who has even simply opened the chapter. But for those of you that regularly comment, it lifts my day like you wouldn't believe. Sometimes I get down and don't think my writing is as good as it should be, but as long as anyone who reads it is happy, I'm happy.**_

 _ **Have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy new year, I'll see you all in April! X**_

 _ **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - That makes me so happy!**_

 _ **Scoob96 - This makes me so happy, because your approval is harder to get so when you like a chapter I get excited! I'm anxiously awaiting your response to this... go easy on me! x**_

 _ **LightningScar - Youre absolutely right, sorry about that! I'll be going back to edit eventually and I'll fix it. thanks for pointing it out!**_

 _ **otherworlder81 - I don't think Fianna CAN die at this point hahaah, you were right, Benjen came back!**_

 _ **Shannan - Thanks , i guess haha! Thank you for always being kind and supporive, i hope you like this and that you' ll still read after the hiatus! Have a nice christmas x**_

 _ **ReedusIsLife - Robb's guilt was elaborated a little, but it was mainly focused on Jon and Dany's, I hope you're okay with that! I also really hope you like this chapter, thanks so much for leaving a comment!**_

 _ **starevolution1273 - If you're looking for dramatic, this is the fic for you hahaha, a hiatus is gonna be sad I'm so used to writing this for over a year now! But at least you'll have a little something extra in April, i hope youll come back to read this when it continues! thank you for everything, you've always been so supportive and it means the world! x**_

 _ **Padfootette - thank youuuu!**_


	57. (LVI) The Mediator

_Fianna_

Fianna Stark panted relentlessly, chest constricted with exertion. Getting back into shape with her now significantly weaker leg would be a battle, but those thoughts were at the back of her mind now.

Weapon in hand, she crouched behind a stray cart, listening intently for any approaching footsteps. Her eyes scanned her environment for any points of weakness, where the enemy could slip past and catch her off guard. Ignoring the shooting pain that vibrated up her leg, she leaned out to the side, peering out in search for her pursuers.

Fianna could see no signs of movement - meaning they were either hiding, or somewhere else entirely. But she couldn't afford to let her defences slip.

The Bua native was a Queen, and a mother foremost. But this was war, and today - she was simply a soldier.

Deeming it somewhat clear enough to stand up and peer over the top of the cart for a better view, her eyes narrowed as they scanned the courtyard. A flash of a figure ducking behind a barrel didn't miss her eye, eliciting a triumphant smirk as she lifted her weapon higher up, waiting patiently for her opponent to appear again. The second they did, she flung forward.

The snowball hit Eddie square in the chest, causing him to stumble backward a few steps in surprise. She didn't throw it hard enough to hurt him, but he was on Robb's team, and therefore - no longer a son of hers.

"I've got her!" A voice met her ears, much too late for her to react as a mound of snow met the side of her face in a clap. Fianna whirled around on the spot, eyes full of contempt as she regarded upon a grinning Robb.

He was now laughing rather loudly at the sight of his wife, with her hair soaked from snow and a glare that could raise the dead. Perhaps this was what kept him distracted, as he failed to notice his red-haired daughter sneak up behind him, a ball of her own in hand.

Due to her small height, Aifric wasn't able to reach her father's head. But her aim for the snowball was perhaps more damning, as she slapped it against the back of his breeches, right on his bottom.

"Hey!" He yelped, surging forward and clutching his newly cold backside. Aifric grinned innocently, eyes occasionally darting back to her mother behind him - who was now in the process of making another snowball. This time, revenge was had, as she dropped it on the top of his curly hair.

Robb groaned at the sensation of iciness on his skull, flicking his hands through his hair to rid it of the snow.

"Eddie!" Robb called out, "where are you, son? Why aren't you helping me?"

His response came in the form of yet another snowball, hitting him square in the back. Robb reared around in shock at the sight of his giggling four year old. An eventual bombardment started, leading to his wife and his twins showering him with snow until he was soaked from head to toe.

"This is treason!" He exclaimed in playful frustration, patting his hands across his clothes to rid them of the clumps of snow.

"You Starks never do shut up about Winter, may as well bask in it while it's here!" Fianna laughed with glee, leaning her elbow against the wagon to take the weight off of her leg. Her foot was healing swimmingly - despite her refusing the maester's instructions to not push herself. She was able to walk without much strain, albeit with a light limp, but running proved to be too much just yet.

"At least we _have_ a family motto," he grinned in response, "what was yours again? 'Death to all Targaryens?'"

"Funny," she rolled her eyes, using her fingers to brush through Eddie's hair, tucking it behind his ears. He may have had his father's hair colour, but he also had the unruliness of his mother's waves.

"I'm gonna take them to see Grey Wind and Ghost before the meeting tonight," Robb announced, lifting Aifric into his arms and hauling her over his shoulder, eliciting childish squeals from the girl.

"Alright," Fianna nodded with a small smile, leaning up to meet the kiss he pressed her to lips. "I'm going to change, I suspect I won't receive much respect as a Queen that looks like a drowned wolfhound."

"Smells like one too," he added, prompting her to smack him in the bicep with the back of her hand.

"Treason!" They turned and called out at the same time, Fianna knowing full well what he about to say before he had it out.

The amused smile remained on her lips for the duration of her walk across the courtyard, although it was juxtaposed with the niggling thought in her brain that perpetually reminded her their blissful period would soon end. In a matter of days, Daenerys and Jon would arrive. And with that arrival, would be their discovery that Robb had usurped them.

Fianna reached the wooden staircase towards the chambers with some dread. Robb usually helped her ascend and descend them, but he had obviously forgotten with his plans for the twins. The brunette paused before the bottom step, curling her lips in and casting a quick glance around her surroundings for any onlookers. Sure enough, as if they had heard there was a sight to see, it seemed as if every soldier, cook and handmaiden had reason to venture outside that day.

Fianna was deathly embarrassed of her injury, and never allowed herself to appear weak in front of anyone that wasn't family.

"Here," Sansa's voice suddenly murmured from beside her, the tall redhead casually linked their elbows together and allowed Fianna to lean on her as they climbed up.

"Thank you," she whispered, her face turning a dark red.

"We've just received a raven from Hornwood," Sansa lowered her voice, aware of listening ears. "They say they saw a large vanguard passing by, followed by two dragons that frightened their lord almost enough for an early death."

"They should be here before the week ends, then," Fianna sighed, a confrontation she wasn't ready for. "On the lighter side, my cousin Tiernan should be arriving by tomorrow."

"Oh," she replied simply, nodding and faking disinterest. But Fianna was watching her good-sister's expression for the slightest hint of excitement, and it came in the form of a twitch of her lips. Sansa Stark didn't show her emotions much as of late, but even she couldn't refrain from Tiernan Bua's charms.

 _Robb_

Despite the animosity between Robb and Jon, it didn't take long for Ghost and Grey Wind's brotherly bond to resurface. In the kennels where they rested, unchained as per Robb's request, they circled each other. Occasionally they scuffled playfully, unsure of how to act around each other. None of the direwolves had been together since they were pups.

"Daddy?" Eddie asked, leaning against Robb's crouched leg. "Are Ghost and Grey Wind brothers?"

"That they are," he smiled wistfully, watching as Aifric ran her hand along Ghost's snowy fur. "Like Jon, Bran, Rickon and I are brothers, like you are Aifric's brother."

"But they don't look alike," he replied confusedly.

"Neither do Jon and I, but we're still brothers aren't we?"

"Are you and Uncle Jon fighting?" Aifric called out, teetering between a bucket filled with chicken and handing bones to the dire wolves waiting mouths.

"Why would you say that?" Robb asked worriedly, brows furrowed.

"We heard Aunt Arya tell Sansa that you two will fight when Jon returns," she answered innocently, blind to her father's sudden tenseness.

"You needn't worry about that, little one," he sighed, standing up straight and preparing to leave. "Jon and I are only arguing because... because he took my favourite pair of breeches with him on his travels."

"Aifric always takes my favourite seat at dinner!" Eddie complained, skipping along behind his father as they exited the kennels.

"Well, when she gives up your seat to the enemy then we'll talk," he muttered under his breath, low enough for only himself to hear. He'd have to have a talk with Arya soon.

* * *

"Let's begin, shall we?" Robb announced, seated behind the desk in his solar with the others gathered around. Rather than a meeting with all the Northern Lords and Ladies, this was a rather tight knit assembly - only those that Robb trusted the most.

"Arya isn't here?" Fianna questioned, looking around at those surrounding them.

"I intend to talk with my sister after this meeting, privately," he spoke cryptically, prompting Fianna and Sansa to share a look. Tension had been rife between the brother and sister since Robb was named King again, but they didn't quite believe he'd not trust her enough to exclude her.

"I think we should discuss first what's going to happen when they arrive," Fianna clasped her fingers together, a map of Winterfell beneath her hands spread across the desk.

"We'll tell them there is peace until the Great War is over," Robb met each of their eyes, "no point in leading to the deaths of able soldiers before it."

"And what if they refuse?" Sansa prompted disbelievingly.

"They won't," Fianna said with self-assurance.

"How do you know?"

Sansa's question led to Fianna sharing a knowing look with Robb, the secret of her grandmother's identity was still hidden from public knowledge. That included Sansa, for now.

"I just know," she repeated. "Jon won't readily fight his family, and Daenerys... I can make her see sense. She won't burn the King and Queen of the North like her father would have, not if she wants to change Westeros' view of the Targaryens after the Mad King."

"And if all else fails," Robb tapped his finger against a point on the map, "we retreat to the crypts. There's a route Fianna and I can escape through, there'll be a small guard ready to take us to Baelfort. I'm not foolish enough to think I can take on the Unsullied, Dothraki and two dragons."

"If this ends in war," Fianna continued, eyes staring off into the distance, "it can't be like the War of the Five Kings. We're not going to win with clever battle strategies and sneak attacks. This war will be won with politics, or with Daenerys' death."

"I know a thing or two about politics," Sansa smirked.

Bran stayed quiet, watching Fianna with attentive eyes, as if he knew something she didn't. He never spoke in meetings like these, choosing to stay quiet and listen instead. Or not listen, more often than not. Their discussions never seemed to hold much interest to Bran, but that was because the boy knew well there were more important things to think of these days.

A sharp knock at the door, followed by the sound of it rudely opening met their ears. All eyes in the room turned to find Tiernan himself, shutting the door behind him and walking towards them with a cocky grin.

"Heard you were having a little meeting, I assumed that meant I was invited," he commented casually. Despite herself, Fianna stood up and walked towards him to greet him with a hug. It hadn't been long since he had left them for Baelfort, but she was glad to see him all the same.

"Manners becometh you, Tiernan," Bonifer called out, a lazy smirk on his features. Tiernan merely nodded in greeting, before his gaze shifted to Sansa, who had suddenly found the wall across from her incredibly interesting.

"I hope you're well, Lady Stark," he commented, grin widening as she suddenly became flustered.

"Very well, Lord Bua."

* * *

Robb found Arya loitering on the balcony, watching down at the scenes beneath her. She could tell he was coming, her ear trained to pick up on every footstep. Nevertheless, she didn't acknowledge him until he was right beside her.

"I see I wasn't invited to your meeting," Arya commented, tone casual but face full of seriousness.

"It's not personal Arya, I wanted to speak with you separately," Robb explained, leaning his elbows against the wooden rail. They were silent for a few moments, before he decided to speak again. "Remember the day Jon and I tried to teach Bran how to shoot an arrow?"

"Yes," she hummed, a hint of a smile forming. "I shot it for him."

Robb chuckled at the thought, nodding his head enthusiastically.

"I know you and Jon will always be closer than you and I. You have been, ever since you were little," he raised his eyebrows knowingly when she opened her mouth to argue, effectively silencing her so he could continue. "And I know that you feel this is a betrayal."

"I know why you did what you did," Arya answered somewhat sullenly, "but he's still our brother."

"Look at it from my view, Arya," he began, turning to the side to face her although she wouldn't meet his eye. "When father was imprisoned, I marched south to save him. When he was beheaded, I kept marching to save you and Sansa. Jon stayed in the North, knowing that our family was at risk, to fight the white walkers. And I can respect that. But the Battle of the Bastards is only a flicker in comparison to what I have been through for my family. We earned the right to a free kingdom, and I won't let him give away what he didn't fight for."

Arya listened intently, visibly relaxing from her usually tense posture as he spoke. She hated to admit he was right, if it meant having to choose sides between her brothers. Perhaps what was even worse about the situation, was that neither brother would ever push her to choose.

"Well, if nothing else," she sighed, a smirk playing with the corners of her lips, "at least I'll get to say I seen a dragon."

"They're nothing special," he scoffed, shaking his head.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"You're up late," Fianna's tired voice murmured, feeling a cold arm slip around her waist and awaken her from her slumber. Robb curled himself around her body, tugging the furs up to protect them from the wintery air.

"Kingly duties, be thankful you're my Queen," he teased into her ear, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Fully awake now, Fianna turned in her arms to face him, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

"If anyone should be thankful I'm Queen, it should be you. Don't forget, you very nearly married a Frey," she bantered, their legs intertwining.

"Ah, Roslyn Frey," he looked off dramatically into the distance, "the one who got away."

"If you'd like to see her again, I don't mind killing you for the sake of true love," Fianna chuckled, sliding her hand up and tracing her fingers over the short beard he had regrown.

"You would crumble without me," he proclaimed, smirking widely as he watched her eyes narrow.

"Why don't you die and find out?"

Spurred on by her attitude, Robb leaned in and pressed their lips together firmly. The kiss was meant to be a gesture of his love for her, but it quickly turned passionate as her wandering fingers slid into his hair. Robb gripped her hip tightly, their bodies moulding closer together.

Breaking off with a soft gasp and reddened lips, Robb brushed the tip of his nose against hers for a moment, absorbing her breathtaking presence.

"How about you crumble _beneath_ me then?" He asked mischievously, not waiting for an answer before reconnecting their lips. Using his elbow to prop him up, the King manoeuvred until he was hovering over her.

"Try me, Stark," she mumbled against his lips before he leaned in to trail kisses down her neck.

"Surely, your grace," he mumbled against the supple skin of her chest.

* * *

The next morning, Fianna woke earlier than usual. Rolling from her bed and deciding to check on the twins, the dull ache in her muscles served as a reminder for their escapades from the night before. Thinking back on it, a smile lifted her lips, casting her eyes back to Robb's bare back that was exposed.

She had now been in love with Robb Stark for nigh on seven years, and he still made her heart race and her needs ache.

After closing her chamber door upon dressing, she turned and stopped mid-step with a gasp at the sight of Bran, waiting casually at the end of the hallway.

"By the Gods, Bran!" She slapped a hand over her chest to calm her heart. "Every corner I take, you're there."

"Sorry," he replied, sounding anything but. His eyes were growing more and more intense by the day, staring at Fianna as if they were boring into her soul. "We must speak, your grace."

"You can call me Fianna, Bran," she shook her head, but agreed to speak with her good-brother in private. As much it guilted her to admit it, Fianna tried to avoid him as much as she could, purely for the vibe and aura he emanated.

Once alone in his chambers, she slumped in a chair next to the lit fire, angling her hands over the flames at an attempt for heating up. No matter how much clothes she wore, it never seemed to be enough.

"You were confident that Daenerys wouldn't harm you," he casually mentioned, prompting her expression to twist in confusion.

"Yes?"

"But Daenerys killed her own brother for going against her." As always, no matter how profound his words were, Bran's stony expression never faltered. How he knew the things he did, she'd never guess.

"I'm not sure what you're implying," she stiffened, wondering if Robb had told him. Then again, that was fairly unlikely given Robb's distaste for all things Targaryen.

"I'm merely pointing out that perhaps you shouldn't rely on Daenerys' family loyalty for your own preservation."

"Daenerys isn't my family," she answered, a little too quick. Bran simply stared in response.

"Isn't she?"

She slid her tongue over teeth, leaning back in the chair with a look of contempt. Sansa said that Bran _knew things_. She thought he was fond of mere rumours at first.

"Is that why you wanted to talk with me? To discuss my lineage?"

"Not _your_ lineage, but Jon's," he answered promptly.

"Jon?" She reeled, eyebrows furrowing. "What does Jon have to do with it?"

"Jon has everything to do with it. You are every bit his family as Robb and myself."

"Not by blood."

"Yes, by blood," he nodded. Tired of his cryptic answers, she simply sat and stared into Bran's eyes. Waiting impatiently for him to spit out whatever he was hiding. "Jon is your cousin, Fianna. As he is mine."

"I'm tired of your games, Bran," her expression became stony. "Reveal what you know."

"Jon isn't really my father's bastard, he's the son of my Aunt Lyanna, and your Uncle Rhaegar."

She took a second to process what he was telling her. Every comment she had ever heard about the bastard of Winterfell and his origins flying over her head. How Catelyn hated him so for being a reminder of Ned's infidelity, how Ned never once admitted to anyone who Jon's mother was.

"Why are you telling me this?" Fianna finally whispered, as the revelation slowly began to seep through her brain. Rhaegar was older than Daenerys - and therefore, that made Jon the heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Not her. "Why not tell Robb?"

"Robb and Jon's bond is the only thing that will keep them from war."

"Bullshit," she grumbled. "Robb and Jon grew up as brothers, that's not going to go away just because Jon's last name is different from Snow."

"The North is in a precarious position, Fianna," Bran looked out the window, watching the Winterfell inhabitants float around and enact their daily duties. "One wrong move could lead to Civil War. You're the common element between both Jon and Daenerys, and Robb and Sansa. You need to be the mediator in ensuring that all eyes remain fixed on the common enemy, instead of each other."

Fianna scraped her fingers through her dark hair, gaze fixated on the fire from the hearth. Her role in the North just became a lot more important, and the burden was already beginning to weigh on her shoulders.

"Does Jon know?" She questioned finally.

"No, Samwell Tarly will be the one to break the news to him."

"But... Jon and Daenerys seemed rather _close_ the last time I saw them," she spoke from memory, recalling how it was rumoured he bent the knee out of love than duty.

"You have no idea," Bran replied. Fianna almost gagged childishly, but settled for swallowing harshly.

 _Targaryens and their incest_ , she thought.

Leaving Bran's chambers, she ran headfirst into Robb outside, who appeared to have just woken up.

"There's my blushing bride," he greeted with a warm smile, slipping his hands around her waist and meeting her with a kiss. "Where were you?"

"Talking with Bran, seeing how he was doing, you know," she nodded nervously, avoiding his eyes. Robb always knew when she was lying - a perk and downside of being so close for so long. If she looked at him now, he'd surely figure it out.

"I assumed you'd still be bed-ridden after last night," Robb chuckled against her ear, wrapping his arm around her back and leading her towards the stairs.

"Don't flatter yourself," she hummed in amusement, leaning against his touch for support as they stepped downstairs.

"Perhaps you'll be pregnant again," Robb waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I've always wanted a large family like my own."

"If there's a babe in my belly I'll castrate you Robb," she huffed, "I have a war to win first, you fool."

"Your grace," a red faced and exhausted rider approached the two, waiting at the bottom of the steps to give Robb his news.

"What is it?"

"I rode back to tell you, they should arrive here within the hour," he relayed, nervous in the presence of his superiors.

"Thank you," Robb answered curtly, dismissing him before turning to meet Fianna's eyes. "Well, it's the moment of truth."

* * *

 _ **WELL WE ARE BAAAAAAAAAACK. To anyone still reading after the short hiatus, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy the last leg of this book! We've come so far!**_

 _ **It's fairly obvious, but from the next chapter onwards will be loaded with spoilers from season 8. Pending on how quickly I write after an episode, you may want to make sure you're caught up before reading.**_

 _ **And now I want to discuss THEORIES. I want to know what everyone thinks will happen to the canon characters, and to Robb, Fianna, Tiernan etc. Remember this book has deviated a lot from the main story, and most likely the ending will be different from the show.**_

 _ **I love reading and hearing theories so please drop a comment and thanks so much for reading!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - So glad you did! Hope you liked this one! x**_

 _ **anshumangupta - If you seen last night's episode you'll see that Jon screwed everyone, not Robb. Some of the Northern Lords refused to march for him under Daenerys rule, while those same lords would have for Robb or Jon. But nevertheless, that's your opinion.**_

 _ **Scoob96 - Completely agree about Jon giving up the North. It was probably the stupidest decision I've seen in the show, and that's including Robb's decision to marry Talisa. Jon likes to say it's so Daenerys can help them win the war, but that's implying that she'd leave them to die otherwise? I'm also so happy you liked Robb's direction with reclaiming the crown. Some readers disagree, but you seem to understand my reasoning behind it. I've also given Arya a little redemption in this chapter too about hating Robb's decision. Love reading your reviews, they're always brutally honest and I hope you're still reading this!**_

 _ **El - I've only ever sprained my knee, I can't imagine properly breaking it! But I'm drawing from stories I've heard to include her pain and that will unfortunately include the slight limp she'll have now because there isn't the medicine we have. So glad you loved the previous chapter! Thanks so much for commenting!**_

 _ **starevolution1273 - Hi again! I wonder if you came back to read this, I surely hope you did because I always loved you're reviews! Thanks so much for always being so kind! x**_

 _ **Lightningscar - This was really interesting to read! I'm glad you liked the direction with Robb taking back the crown, I'm excited to get into the full swing of things now that I have material to work with again. And I have to apologise for any grammar or typos! I'm hoping to edit the entire book when I'm finished, I always do a quick read through and correction before publishing but the previous chapter was 10,000 words long and it's easy to miss things! Thanks for reviewing, have a wonderful day!**_

 _ **Shannan - Hope you enjoy this chapter too if you're still reading! x**_

 _ **Padfootette - glad to hear it!**_

 _ **Samahenoy Phye - I hope you're still reading then! And if you see this, thanks for commenting!**_

 _ **celine sLineC Line - I think Daenerys has good ruling qualities but she has no idea how to run Westeros. She was surrounded by Dothraki and Unsullied warriors for years, and ruling them is very very different from Westeros. I keep thinking about what does she have planned if she gets the Iron Throne? Are the Dothraki just going to become Lords and saddle up in a house? Highly unlikely. Thanks for reviewing, I loved reading it!**_

 _ **Guest - That's certainly something to consider ; )**_

 _ **Valen Goncalvez - Not so much soon but I finally uploaded a chapter!**_

 _ **D00rfr4m3 - So glad you liked the story! Thanks for making it past the first few chapters I'm aware there's a fuck tonne of grammar errors in the first parts! And god yes I agree, reviews at the start of a chapter drive me insane. I have to scroll for ages to actually find the chapter. There are a number of reasons I waited until season 8 to write again, mainly because any plot twists or major events that happen I'll more than likely have to include and I want to avoid having to go back and rewrite things. I also just needed a break from this book for a while. I fell out of love for writing it and was insecure with everything I was publishing, it just wasn't the same for me any more and I needed to take the time to fall back in love with Fianna and get my confidence back about the story. Now that I have, and season 8 is here, I am READYYYYY.**_


	58. (LVII) A Renegade King

_**SONG:**_ _Basic Instinct by The Acid_

 _Jon_

Jon Snow expected to be met with cold reactions upon arriving back at Winterfell, but he didn't quite expect the level that the North was bringing. The sounds of the Unsullied's marching feet was all he could hear, and while he wasn't expecting cheers, he didn't expect for every Northern face to be looking away from him in both shame and disapproval.

Convincing them to pledge fealty to Daenerys would be difficult, but he hoped Sansa's influence would help in that matter. The thought of seeing Robb's face again crossed his mind often, and he found himself guiltily hoping that Robb and Fianna had retired to Baelfort.

Seeking comfort, he cast a glance towards Daenerys, who returned his gaze with the slightest of smiles. Their relationship had amplified since their moment on the boat, and Jon found her stirring feelings inside of him he hadn't felt since, well, since Ygritte.

A booming screech and vast shadow overcast them, prompting Jon to tilt his head back and marvel as Drogon soared overhead. It was almost comical how the Northerners screamed and ducked in fright, but his amusement soon subsided when he saw a mother curl her arms around a crying little girl. He hadn't considered until now the real terror they probably still felt from the Targaryen reign, and how much more amplified that fear would be when the latest Targaryen conqueror also came equipped with two dragons.

Yes, this would be difficult indeed.

When finally the journey was over and they had reached Winterfell, Jon hopped off his horse with excitement. He hadn't seen Bran in eight years, and the prospect of seeing him again made him want to sprint toward them. Daenerys walked leisurely, a stiffness in her posture he didn't fail to pick up on. He had never seen the Targaryen so out of her own comfort zone, and the piercing eyes of those surrounding her had clearly caused her to become standoffish. That, and the prospect of meeting the rest of the Starks.

* * *

 _Sansa_

Sansa Stark had seen so many dastardly things in her short lifetime, she had almost become numb to shock. But the sight of a dragon soaring over her home was still enough to catch her breath in her throat.

The redhead had been stood atop the Winterfell walls, watching as the large army flooded down the roads and looking for a glimpse of the Queen that had stirred up so much trouble.

"Seven _fucking_ Hells!" Tiernan shouted from next to her, crouching lowly from fright while she remained standing tall, unwavering. "Remind me never to piss off the Targaryen!"

"Daenerys can't afford to burn any of the Northern Lords, Lord Tiernan," Sansa reassured him with an amused smirk.

"You tell Aegon the Conqueror that, we all know what happened to my ancestor," he huffed, straightening his posture and attempting to look strong again.

"Your only claim to fame," she teased, waiting for him to join her at her side so they could travel down to the courtyard.

"I'll have you know, Fianna is one of the most feared people in the Seven Kingdoms," he raised his eyebrows, offering his elbow for her to hold.

"Yes, _Fianna_. But you're not Fianna, are you?" She continued, holding back a chuckle at his offended expression. He truly embodied every Northern characteristic - stubborn, and overly protective.

"I'll have you know, _Lady Sansa_ ," he sputtered, struggling to come up with a response. "There's blood on my hands!"

"Your own, I'd bet," she turned to walk backwards, so she could drop her eye in a playful wink. When she faced forward again, he was grinning madly out of her eye line.

Rickon, Bran and a number of other Lords were already waiting when they arrived. Arya was nowhere to be seen, but Sansa had long since learned not to force Arya into doing anything formal that she simply didn't want to do. Jon and Arya would talk about Daenerys in their own time.

"Hi," Tiernan caught her attention before she took her place aside her brothers, "if you need me to back you up at any point, just look at me. Okay?"

Sansa nodded at him, thankful that she would have him at her defence - even though she didn't think she'd need him. She knew how to handle power-hungry Queens by now.

It wasn't long after that their guests had reached the welcoming party, and immediately Sansa's eyes were drawn to the snowy white hair of what would probably prove to be her biggest foe in times to come. But first, they would have to be allies.

The redhead snapped out of her daze as Jon's black mop of hair moved past her, crouching beside Bran and hugging him tightly in greeting.

"You're a man now," Jon sniffed, leaning back and looking over his features.

"Almost," Bran simply replied, and she held back a snicker. If Jon expected much emotion from their little brother, he was looking at the wrong sibling.

Rickon was next in line, who gave Jon a much more welcoming embrace, the elder of the two ruffling his hair cheekily.

When he got to Sansa, his smile became a little tighter upon noticing her stoic expression. He should have known she'd be the coolest of them all when it came to his abdication.

Nevertheless, he leaned in to hug her. Sansa's eyes met Daenerys' over his shoulder, watching as the blonde stared at the scene almost protectively. Perhaps Robb had been right to suspect there was something going on between the two.

"Where's Arya?" Jon prompted after letting her go, regaining her attention. This time, Sansa analysed Jon's features. They had placed so much hope onto him, and now he had squandered so much of it.

"Lurking somewhere," she answered, raising an eyebrow as Jon beckoned for Daenerys to approach them. The Targaryen was full of smiles as she approached Sansa, who stood a good head taller. Not at all intimidated by her appearance, she spoke as if they were friends getting re-acquainted.

 _Trying to prove she's not her father - no doubt,_ Sansa thought to herself.

"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen," Jon introduced them, using hand gestures, "Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell."

"Thank you for inviting us into your home, Lady Stark," Daenerys began, her voice light-hearted and sweet. "The north is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you."

Sansa struggled not to give a reaction at her words, her eyebrows twitching to move up and her eyes begging to roll. She had to remember Robb's instructions in this instance - which were to act as if she were welcoming a guest, not as if she were handing her home to them.

"You're truly an honoured Guest, my lady," Sansa replied cooly, emphasising the reductive title she used for the Queen. Daenerys and Jon didn't fail to notice it, their eyes fixated on Sansa's face in warning.

"We don't have time for this," Bran interrupted the thick cloud of tension forming impatiently, "the Night King has Fianna's dragon. He's one of them now. The Wall has fallen."

Daenerys reeled at his words, in particular she honed on the fact Viserion had apparently become apart of their army. This war had just become a lot more personal.

* * *

 _Fianna_

They could have met Jon and Daenerys in the courtyard, proudly greeting them as guests in their once-again independent kingdom. But as Robb pointed out, they would be doing so while Daenerys had an army of Unsullied Dothraki at her back. When they broke the news to Jon and Daenerys, it had to be surrounded by their own allies. In their own territory.

Tiernan had sent them an envoy to inform the duo of when they would all be gathered inside the Great Hall, and once they were, Robb and Fianna prepared to leave.

Placing a kiss on her children's heads, she left with a nod to her grandfather - Bonifer. Fianna knew he wouldn't let anyone harm the twins in his presence.

Once they reached the door of the great hall, Fianna grappled for Robb's hand to hold onto. He looked towards her upon sensing the contact, the a smile curling up his lips.

"Are you nervous?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Do you remember what I said to you when they first crowned you King in the North?" She tilted her head, unable to stop the amused smile that plastered itself across her lips.

"That it should have been you?" He grinned cheekily, holding his hand up to pause the servant who was prepared to open the door.

"No," she rolled her eyes. "I said that from that day, until my last day, you are _my_ king. That I would fight for you, and die for you. If I had to."

Robb's eyes gleamed with pride. While he'd never put her in a situation that would risk her life over his own, to love and to be loved as fiercely in return was an unimaginable feeling. All his life he wanted a love that burned as brightly as his parents did. Wherever they were, he was sure they'd be proud that Robb and Fianna had found each other. He had to wonder if his father had any idea what was waiting for them when he betrothed the two.

"Are you ready for yet another dramatic entrance, your grace?" He nodded mockingly towards her, giving the doorman a signal to open it up.

"Always," she chuckled, wiping the amusement off her face as the doors opened, revealing a crowded room before them.

Fianna had eyes on Daenerys since the second she saw her, seated in _her_ chair at the high table. The blonde's eyebrows furrowed upon noticing her niece's entrance, which descended into a full frown as she watched the Northerner's reactions.

Throughout the entirety of their council meeting, not a single Lord nor Lady in the room would answer to anyone but Sansa. Not even to Jon. It didn't take long for Daenerys to figure out why when she saw everyone bow in greeting to the two, as they stepped down the centre space.

Robb stood tall, as did Fianna - her limp now only noticeable to those who knew she had injured her leg. Everyone in the room looked towards them with the level of respect that she was more than familiar with, the respect given to one's King or Queen.

Whispers of "your grace", met her ears, only they weren't directed towards her. Daenerys _bristled_ with fury at their audacity - a renegade King and Queen.

Jon and Robb maintained eye contact as much as the women did, betrayal and confusion on one side and anger from the other.

They paused just before the top table, so Fianna was the first one to speak.

"You're in my seat," she announced clearly, not at all frightened by the fierceness of Daenerys' glare.

"The centre seats are maintained for the highest figure of power, and that's Daenerys - our queen," Jon defended on her behalf, albeit his voice was shaken.

"The Northerners have decided differently," Sansa spoke up, struggling to withhold her smirk. "They have decided to pledge fealty to Robb and Fianna."

Daenerys' jaw clenched, remaining seated while Jon stood up in disbelief.

"What you've done-" he stammered, looking around to see if the consensus was widespread, "this is _treason_."

"And what you have done is cowardice," Robb finally said, angrier than Jon had ever seen him. He knew Robb would fight Jon's decision to step down the most, but he didn't think a revolution was on anyone's minds.

"We don't have time for this!" He protested. "The dead are ready to march to Winterfell any day now, and you're trying to incite a civil war!"

"There will be no war," Robb refuted, "at least, not until the Great War is over."

"And what then? Even after a battle, the North would never stand against Dothraki, Unsullied and two dragons," Daenerys grumbled through gritted teeth. She knew that whatever familial relationship she had formed with Fianna was already deteriorated, but not this badly.

"I'd be careful when insulting the North, Daenerys," Fianna raised an eyebrow, casting a quick glance around at those surrounding her, all equally wearing expressions of contempt. "Especially when you're in a room filled with them, with only Missandei and Tyrion Lannister to defend you."

"You and your armies will be honoured guests at Winterfell until the Great War is over, but make no mistake in believing that we are under _your_ reign," Robb continued. He had been the most offended by Jon's decision to abdicate, which felt like a slap in the face after all he had worked toward.

Jon and Daenerys shared a glance, still not moving from their seats as they internally debated their next move. It was clever, Jon realised, how they were still cornered despite Daenerys having a the majority of soldiers.

"If titles mean as little to you as you say, dear brother," Robb tilted his head condescendingly, "then move aside so we can start talking about how we're going to win this war."

Swallowing thickly, Jon gave Daenerys a pointed look and got up from his seat, moving dejectedly to the one further right, next to Rickon. The youngest Stark boy had remained silent during the exchange, trying to remember Fianna's words about how he didn't have to get involved at all. He wasn't sure which side he'd have chosen anyway.

Daenerys relocation was a little more prolonged, but there was only so long she and Fianna could glare at each other before one of them had to make a move.

"So your title meant nothing then?" Lyanna stood up as Robb and Fianna sat themselves down, the angry words she had tried keeping to herself bubbling to the surface. "You left Winterfell a King and came back a bi-... well, I'm not sure what you are now."

"It's not important," Jon defended meekly, receiving a shake of a head from Robb.

"Not important?" She echoed. "We named you King in the North! Your own brother passed the crown to you, trusting that you would do it justice."

"It was the honour of my life, and I'll always be grateful for your faith. But when I left Winterfell, I told you we needed allies or we will die. I had a choice, to keep my crown or protect the North. I _chose_ the North."

"Allies, yes," Fianna repeated, keeping her expression stoic, "Not another ruler."

Tyrion, feeling the need to defend his Queen, hopped up from his chair and waddled around to the front of the table. In his experience, people listened more when they felt it was a discussion, instead of a speech.

"If anyone survives this war to come, we'll have Jon Snow to thank," he held his hand out to Jon, suddenly feeling the pressure of eyes on him. However much the North hated Targaryens, they mistrusted the Lannisters just as much.

"He risked his life to show us the threat is real," he continued, "thanks to his courage, we have brought with us the greatest army the world has ever seen. We have brought two full grown dragons. And soon, the Lannister army will ride North to join our fight."

"What?" Robb bellowed, expression falling. "Now you expect us to trust Cersei Lannister?"

"I know, I know, our people haven't been friends in the past!" Tyrion winced at the uproar, not missing that Fianna closed her eyes to exhale in frustration. "But we must fight together now, or die."

"'Haven't been friends', is it?" Robb narrowed his eyes. "Your family was responsible for the murder of my father and mother, and the torture of myself, my wife and my sister. Unless you're paying her a hefty sum, I won't believe they'd fight alongside us until I see a lion's cape next to mine on the battlefield."

"May I ask," Sansa began, directing a question towards Tyrion that Fianna barely listened to. She was caught by the eyes that practically burned holes into the side of her face. Turning to the left, she caught Daenerys' unwavering gaze. The Targaryen looked absolutely furious with her niece, but Fianna didn't miss the shake of her lips, nor the innocent widening of her eyes.

Deny it as she would, she couldn't ignore that Daenerys had fantasied of forming a bond between them since discovering she existed. She had her advisors, and her trusted friends, but Dany didn't have the family that she longed to find in Fianna. Well, that she knew of yet anyway.

And now the only family she knew about was tearing apart her dream of the Seven Kingdoms. The thought was enough to force Fianna to look away, pushing away any semblance of guilt that threatened to form.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

"How are you holding up, little man?" Tiernan asked, draping his arm across Rickon's shoulders. He had gotten so much taller every time they saw each other, more of a man than ever before. It made Tiernan feel rather old, despite only being in his early 20s.

"Just-" he cut off, looking across at the vast camping ground that had been set up. "I just want this all to be over."

"You and me both," Tiernan scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked. "You're alright though, aren't you? Everything with Robb and Jon is bound to be stressful."

"I don't care about that, I know that they'll sort it out. Brothers always do," he shrugged, flicking his curly mop of hair out of his face.

"Right you are," he caught sight of red hair nearby and immediately smirked, "it's the sisters you have to concern yourself with."

Patting the teenager on his back, he skipped toward Sansa who was hurriedly making her way across the muddy grounds.

"You held yourself well back there," he complimented, catching up to her side.

"I think after everything I can handle a Queen or two by now," she huffed, cheeks flushed as she powered forward.

"Hey, hey," Tiernan reached out, gently cupping his arm around her elbow to stop her from rushing on. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she grumbled, shaking her head for a moment to calm herself. "I just have so much to do and so little time to do it. Brynden and Edmure have yet to reply to our scrolls so we have no idea if they're even coming, every Northern family is headed this way right now and so is an army of the undead. Don't get me started on food reserves, at least if we have mass casualties we can afford to feed the survivors after," she spoke bitterly.

" _Sansa_ ," Tiernan chuckled scandalously, looking around to ensure no one else had heard her. "Come on, I'll help you. I know a thing or two about a thing or two."

Sansa hesitated, usually she liked to keep her own workload to herself, only sharing it with Robb and Fianna. But she took great pride in her organising skills, and wasn't sure if she wanted someone else impeding on that. Nevertheless, she still needed help.

"Alright," she nodded in acceptance, allowing him to trail after her while they made their way to her father's - now Robb's, solar.

* * *

 _Robb_

"And three thousand of these," Robb pointed towards a drawing of a dragonglass axe, rolling up the scroll and handing it towards Gendry. "Do you think you'll be able to get it all done?"

"We'll soon find out," the Baratheon bastard huffed, thinking of the workload ahead of him, "why so many axes? I would have thought swords would be the better choice."

"Many of our fighters are common folk who have never fought before, I thought they'd feel more comfortable with an axe than a sword," Robb explained, patting him on the back before scraping a hand through his own reddened hair.

"You know who you reminded me of in there?" Jon's voice suddenly met his ears, surprisingly calm given the rift between them. Instead of answering, Robb simply glanced toward him in acknowledgement, his eyes remaining trained on Fianna, who was playing with Aifric and Eddie beneath them.

"Your mother," Jon finished, an amused smirk on his lips.

"Why's that then?" Robb couldn't help but chuckle, looking towards him finally with mirth in his eyes.

"Fiercely protective over her family, and ready to cut my throat in an instant," he joked. Although his words were with good humour, Robb stiffened, all amusement wiping from his features.

"You know that I never approved of the way she treated you, Jon," he commented, knowing that his half-brother suffered in his younger years.

"I know," Jon reaffirmed, following his brother's eye line to his family below. "My, my, the twins grow fast."

"Eddie is a Stark through and through," Robb chuckled, "he reminds me of his namesake. Quiet and well mannered. And then there's Aifric, who's this close to running off and riding those dragons. She'll be the handful, I'd say."

"How ironic," Jon drily chuckled, "the ancestor she was named after was burned to death by a dragon."

"Tell me about it," Robb rolled his eyes in amusement, watching as Fianna was wrestled to the ground by her children, the sludge that formed from a mix of snow and muck now coating her backside. Jon looked on silently for a moment at Robb's unwavering gaze.

He always knew that Robb would protect his family to the death, but the way he watched over his children was a very familiar sight. It reminded him ever so much of his own father, watching over them protectively from the balconies of Winterfell.

It was the first time in a while that he had felt like Winterfell wasn't his home.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"Look what you've done now," Aifric cried out at Eddie, after having been knocked into a pile of hay. Fianna was laughing hysterically at the sight, the mud caked to their clothes causing the straw to stick to Aifric's breeches as if she were a scarecrow.

"Come on, little one," she cooed, reaching forward for her hands and tugging her upward.

"Go on," Eddie prompted, "cry!"

"Eddie," Fianna reprimanded, brushing the straw off her father with her hands.

"She always pretends to cry whenever you're around and then hits me harder when you go away!" He ranted, crossing his arms in a huff. Fianna rolled her eyes to the Heavens. They really had reached the age of constant bickering and fights.

"I think it's safe to assume these are the famous twins," Daenerys' called out, unable to keep a warm smile off her lips as she had been watching the scene for a few moments before. Fianna straightened and turned immediately, the twins cowering behind her with frowns. They hadn't been hidden from the stories circulating Winterfell of the lady with the white hair, and although she was beautiful, the sight of her put the fear of the gods into them.

"Yes," Fianna swallowed with a nod, feeling their fingers dig into her legs. "This is Eddard and Aifric."

"Eddard and Aifric?" She echoed with a smirk, raising an eyebrow with curiosity. "Names as controversial as their parents, then."

"Did you expect anything less," Fianna breathed a laugh, posture still tense. She didn't know what to expect from Daenerys ever since the council meeting, and didn't want any arguments to erupt in front of the twins.

"Of course not," she still held a polite smile, confusing the Baelfort native as she crouched down and waved at the cowering children. "I had a son once, you know."

"Really?" Fianna questioned, never having heard of her even being married.

"Yes," Daenerys smiled fondly. "Rhaego. He didn't survive the birthing process, unfortunately."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied sincerely. Despite their differences, as a mother, Fianna felt her agony.

"He was named after my brother, Rhaegar," she smiled wistfully. "As is Rhaegal, the dragon with green scales. Speaking of, Rhaegal has become rather taken with Jon."

Fianna didn't think that Daenerys meant her comment as a threat, but her face fell nonetheless. It was well known that only those with Valyrian blood could ride a dragon, how could Daenerys not have realised by now that Jon was one of their own?

The words of revelation rested on her tongue, begging to tell Daenerys the truth. Especially now, after seeing the way with which they acted around each other.

"If Viserion hadn't fallen we could have been the three dragons," Daenerys continued, eyes fixated on Aifric as she slowly began to inch out from her mother's leg. Fianna quickly stopped her daughter before she ventured further, placing a hand on her head in warning.

"Ah yes, he would be Aegon in that case I suppose," Fianna spoke before realising what she had said. Daenerys kept her light expression, but it wavered slightly.

"Surely I would be Aegon, the Conqueror," she nodded, prompting Fianna to nod silently along with her. "You would be Visenya for sure, always at odds with the other two. Vicious she was."

Fianna refrained from voicing once again that she didn't think she had anything to do with the Targaryen family, but her own pity for the woman before her kept her silent. Daenerys wanted nothing more than her supposed birthright, and as soon as she found out about Jon's lineage, it would crush her.

"I don't hate you for this mini-revolution you and Robb started," Daenerys began, while Fianna crouched down and pointed towards Rickon in the distance, urging them to follow after him. "I even understand it. You're protecting your family."

Daenerys watched while the twins scampered off toward their uncle, an ache in her chest at the sight. Fianna chose not to answer to that.

"Surely you understand that the North would be better off combined with the other Seven Kingdoms," she tried to plead with her, hoping to appeal to Fianna's head if not her heart. "Financially, and economically. Where would you grow oats in the cold landscape?"

"We made it work before Aegon, we'll make it work after," Fianna replied cooly, seeing right through Daenerys' kind image. "Frankly I'm not sure you're the right leader for economic and political benefit either."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her smile finally fading, eyes snapping towards Fianna.

"I've heard all about your escapades in the Land across the sea," Fianna shrugged innocently. "Rather galant of you to free all those slaves. But you didn't think long term, Daenerys."

The blonde stood quietly, waiting for an elaboration.

"You may have done the most humane thing but you left the cities in economic ruin, overturning the political structure I wholeheartedly agree with but you failed to put one in its place. You left them vulnerable, open to attack. And believe me, the second you took your armies and your dragons an attack is imminent. Would you return to Essos if it was invaded?"

Daenerys stayed silent, eyes fixed on a point on the ground beneath them. She had trusted Daario with ruling, but never stopped to think that perhaps she had did more damage than good.

"So you'd rather me keep those slaves in chains?"

"A good ruler overturns current political standings over _years_ , not overnight. You want the Iron Throne, yet you're not willing to sacrifice anything for it."

With those final words, Fianna turned and readied herself to storm off, but decided to leave one final comment to drive the nail home.

"Have you ever stopped to consider that the Seven Kingdoms were doing just fine with a Baratheon on the throne and not a Targaryen?"

* * *

"Seven Hells, Bran," Fianna stomped towards the chair-bound man, who had been eerily staring at everyone all day from the same spot. "Do you need to be wheeled inside? Are you _stuck_?"

"No, Fianna," he replied, the same droll voice as always. "I'm waiting for an old friend."

"Is that friend frostbite?" She commented, looking around for any nearby listeners before speaking again. "When are you going to tell Jon, Bran? You can't let them continue on like this. If they're gonna keep that incest shit up they deserve to both know about it."

"Samwell Tarly is telling him as we speak," he nodded, returning his gaze to the gates of Winterfell.

" _What_?" She hissed in shock, looking around for the two friends. "How much is he going to find out?"

"All of it," Bran answered, meeting her gaze once more. "About Rhaegar and Lyanna, about his claim to the throne and about how he's both a cousin to you and I."

"I never said I wanted anyone to find out about my own lineage Bran," she lowered her voice, a sense of dread filling her. He never did reply again, his gaze shifting from her to a doorway behind her that she knew held the entrance to the crypts. Whirling on the spot, she immediately spotted Jon exiting, looking sickly pale and ready to vomit.

* * *

 _ **A slower chapter for a slow episode, I can't wait for the action to happen! I already have an idea of who's living and surviving in this book, whether that will be the same as the show or not you'll have to see!**_

 _ **Fun fact I went back to chapter five to find out what Fianna had actually said when Robb was claimed King and no joke she said she'd rather give a leg than swear fealty to a Southern king, did I accidentally foreshadow myself?**_

 _ **Hope you all enjoy! Feel free to comment with reactions to last night's episode I'd love to discuss it!**_

 _ **anhumangupta - At the end of the day, this is purely my writing and I'm in control of everything. Robb isn't an actual character any more, so I can make him do what he wants, and make Daenerys react how I want. That's the beauty of fanfiction.**_

 _ **El - THANK YOU, IT'S GOOD TO BE BACK. I am loooooooving Sansa this season she has easily become my favourite character. That conversation with Daenerys where she's like "what about the North" I WAS YELLING! Ned Umber had me FREAKED. I was watching the show at 2am from my time zone and in the DARK. I hope you liked this chapter and what's to come thanks for commenting!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - Thank you! xx**_

 _ **Emily01111 - BIG AGREE. But then I was kinda uncomfortable with Arya and Gendry actually together if you know what I mean? I ship them so much but she looked sooooo young in the sex scene and I think I still see her as lil baby Arry!**_

 _ **Aerianna Lupin - Ahhhhh that means the world to me thanks so much! I agree there was some stupid things in the show that I've tried to rectify, so so happy you've liked the changes so far! I hope you enjoy the rest of the book! x**_

 _ **Guest - SHADY'S BACK. BACK AGAIN.**_


	59. (LVIII) Until Dawn

_**SONG:**_ _Jenny of Oldstones by Florence + The Machine_

 _ **TW**_ _: mentions of suicide_

 _Fianna_

"Jaime fucking Lannister," Robb shook his head in a low whistle, unsure whether to be amused or abhorred by the man's sudden arrival. The last time he and Fianna had seen the Kingslayer, he was trapped in a cage, covered in his own shit. Now, he was willingly coming to them. And alone, at that.

"He's either a fool or a distraction," Fianna agreed, the two walking side by side to the Great Hall where Ser Jaime was to be placed in front of themselves, and Daenerys by default, for an impromptu trial.

"You've been awfully quiet since last night," he commented with a wry smirk, "I wasn't that awful in bed was I?"

"No, it's the only reason we're still together," she teased with a breathy chuckle, hoping her comment would distract him from what was really on her mind. Robb and Fianna had made an agreement once never to keep a secret, which was exactly why she had planned on telling him today about Jon. Too many a time she had let a secret come between them, she felt she could trust him with this one.

Jon had stormed past her after the revelation in the crypts, sulking off to his chambers to be in solitude. She guessed he wouldn't be joining Daenerys in bed that night. It wasn't that she had particularly wanted to speak with Jon about their newfound connection, but Bran's words still rang in her mind.

Everyone was already waiting by the time they arrived, all eyes on a rather sour looking Daenerys and a sullen Jaime Lannister. They didn't begin until the Northern King and Queen sat down.

"A trial is the last thing on people's minds right now," Fianna spoke after a beat of silence, "but it's either listen to what the Kingslayer has to say or let a free-for-all happen. I'm sure one or two, or half a dozen of us, have reasons to want this man dead."

"I'd like to go first," Daenerys drily requested from beside her, eyes as fiery as her dragon's throats. She took a second to stare him down longer, before opening her mouth. "When I was a child, my brother told me a bedtime story about the man who murdered our father. Who stabbed him in the back and cut his throat. Who sat down on the throne and watched his blood spill across the floor. We also talked about all the things we would do to that man when we took back the Seven Kingdoms and had him in our grasp."

Fianna's nose twitched, finding Daenerys' anger a little misplaced. Of all the despicable things the Lannister man did, even solely to the Starks, his slaying of Aerys Targaryen was something she didn't hate him for. And she knew Robb felt the same.

Aerys had burnt Robb's grandfather and uncle for pleading their sister's safe return, oaths be damned, he deserved to be stripped of his throne and life.

"It's good to see you again, Kingslayer," Robb smirked cockily, leaning forward in his chair with eyes trailing up and down the man's appearance. "How about that one on one sword fight you requested? I think I have a better chance now."

"It's a shame it took me losing a limb for a King to find the balls to fight me," Jaime fired back, but Robb's amusement never simmered down. From the last time they met, and now, Robb still held the power over Jaime's life.

"I don't see your sister's army," Daenerys added with narrowed eyes, "I see one man, with one hand."

"She never had any intention of sending her army North," Jaime admitted truthfully, "she has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and twenty thousand fresh troops. The Golden Company, from Essos. Even if we defeat the dead, she'll have more than enough to kill the survivors."

"It's almost as if Cersei Lannister couldn't be trusted," Fianna spit, casting a dark glare towards a furious Daenerys and a defeated Jon.

* * *

"I don't trust him," Robb muttered under his breath, walking alongside Fianna as they exited the hall, upon listening to Jon and Sansa's suggestions for his life to be spared.

"Me neither," she sighed tiredly, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. "Lest we forget, the man came within seconds of killing me at the Whispering Wood."

"Jon is right though," Robb admitted, watching as the Kingslayer freely walked around the courtyard. "We need every man we can get."

"That doesn't mean we trust him," Fianna argued, "but I'll admit he was brave to come here by himself."

Robb stopped to look at his wife with a small, agreeing smile, watching as she let out a prolonged yawn. Fianna hadn't slept well in days, anxiously waiting for the war horn to sound and signal an incoming attack. The signs of her lack of sleep came in the form of dark under eye shadows and a pale face, making her appear older than she actually was. Occasionally, realisation would strike Robb about how young he and his wife still were. Their experiences had left them feeling aged, despite only being twenty three and twenty four respectively.

Over his shoulder, she caught eyes with Jon, having noticed that he was already looking at her. Once they made eye contact, he nodded his head towards the doorway to the crypts, signalling that he was finally ready to talk.

"I'm going to double check the food reserves, I'd imagine we'll burn through most of it feeding the soldiers for the war to come," she explained, hoping he bought her excuse. Having no reason to suspect anything, Robb departed after leaving a kiss on her cheek, prompting his wife to follow after Jon when her husband was out of sight.

* * *

When she entered the crypts, Fianna could just about make out his dark figure further down. Having visited them enough times, she knew he was standing in front of the statue of Ned Stark. She walked slowly, debating the upcoming conversation in her head before she would eventually meet him.

"He risked his marriage for my well-being," Jon began, barely sparing her a glance as he remained fixated with Ned's face. Fianna hadn't seen the man since she was ten, and even she knew it bore no resemblance to the actual man.

"He loved Catelyn, and he still risked it all to protect me," Jon continued, shoulders slumped with stress.

"I've risked my marriage before for secrets," Fianna admitted, stopping when they were finally side by side.

"Was your grandmother's identity one of them?" Jon questioned, turning to face her with a raised eyebrow. In truth, Fianna and him were never close. But now they were bonded in a way no one else could relate to - an unwanted lineage.

"I found out about Rhaella Targaryen a little while before Robb returned to me," Fianna sighed, turning to face him. "I was too happy to have him back to risk making him see me in a different light."

"And did he? See you differently?"

"No," Fianna's lips lifted, "but it didn't change anything anyways. I was still born a Bua, your situation is a little more dire."

"That's how you could ride Viserion then?" He asked knowingly.

"And how you could ride Rhaegal," she finished. Fianna eyed him for a moment as he turned to peer at the statue again. "Have you told Daenerys?"

"No, that's a conversation I'm not ready for," he answered gruffly. "You know, when I found out that you and Robb had gone against me, at first I was angry. You made a fool of me in front of every Northern lord and lady."

Fianna stayed quiet, eyes trained forward and refusing to give a reaction.

"But then I thought of why I bent the knee in the first place," he continued, tone lighter and less tight. "Because none of this truly matters. All that matters is surviving. You've seen what they can do, you yourself nearly died."

"It is important," she agreed, "but so is what happens afterward."

"Well, we won't have to wait long to find that out," Jon sighed, an undertone in his voice that caught her attention.

"What do you mean?" Fianna pressed, eyeing him carefully.

"Tormund said they'll be here before the dawn."

At his revelation, Fianna's eyes widened dramatically, her feet scrambling backwards. There was so much they weren't ready for, so much to do. She thought they'd have more time.

Jon simply watched as she turned and ran as well as she could with her bum leg, desperate to put the final preparations in place. And to spend what was potentially her last day with her children.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark had been in a frantic pace after hearing the revelation about the Night Walker's imminent arrival. There were so many strategies he had hoped to implement and discuss before they perished, and now, he would have no other choice but to do what he could in the time they had.

"Your grace," Gendry interrupted him mid-stride, a rather strangely shaped weapon poised in his hands.

"Yes?" Robb forced himself to stop and turn to the boy, the stress catching up to him as he hoped the conversation wouldn't be a waste of their limited time.

"I made that weapon you wanted for the Queen," he answered promptly, raising the tool up again. Robb tilted his head as he checked it over. It almost seemed to be two weapons in one, with a stick connecting both edges. One end held a short chain to rather heavy looking spiked iron ball, the other held a dragonglass pointed blade.

"What _is_ it?" Robb questioned, taking it from his hands and marvelling over it.

"It's a mace, the Lannisters have just started forging these in King's Landing. It's a new design," Gendry explained, using hand gestures over it.

"Will she be able to use it?"

"Definitely," he answered without hesitance, "you mentioned Queen Fianna used to wield longswords, so I'm assuming she has a lot of upper body strength. One whack with the spiked ball will incapacitate them long enough to stab them with the dragonglass. They're strong, but they're still a bag of bones. Bones break."

A proud smirk lifted up one corner of Robb's lips, testing the weight of the weapon himself. He had asked the Baratheon bastard for a weapon he believed would better suit Fianna's strengths. Now that one of her leg's was weaker than the other, she would be more heavily reliant on her upper body.

"I appreciate this, Gendry," Robb thanked him, a genuine smile forming as he clapped the boy on the back. A figure caught the corner of his as he did so, standing stationary a few feet away. Expecting it to be another steward requiring his assistance, Robb turned reluctantly to face him, his mouth falling open in surprise once he saw who it was.

Theon didn't speak immediately, nor move at all for that matter. He simply stood, looking terribly fearful, staring at Robb. Letting the hand that held the weapon fall limp by his side, Robb took the initiative to step toward his former friend.

Robb stopped mere feet away from the Greyjoy son, fiercely staring him down and watching as he fidgeted under his gaze.

"I-... I've come to fight for Winterfell, your grace," he murmured eventually, voice taut with nerves. Theon jumped when Robb took another step forward, unable to read the expression on his face.

He would have been less shocked if Robb had hit him, instead of what he actually did. Which was wrap his arm around his shoulders tightly, bringing him into a brotherly hug he hadn't experienced in years.

Theon froze in his grip, before eventually lifting his shaking arms to embrace him in return. They stayed for a moment, until Robb could get his point across. Whatever Theon had done in the past, he had more than paid his dues for. Robb knew first hand how Ramsay's cruelty had no boundaries, and couldn't feel anything but protective over Theon. His brother.

"Thank you," Theon whispered when they finally pulled apart, wincing when Robb clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No, thank _you_ ," Robb replied, voice filled with sincerity and thankfulness.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Night had fallen across Winterfell, and with it, the realisation that in mere hours at least half the people around would be dead. With Aifric's hand clasped in her own, and Eddie's in her other, Fianna frantically rushed across the castle ensuring every man, woman and child knew their place and were equipped with food, weaponry or both.

"Mama?" Eddie's sweet voice met her ears, interrupting her from pointing a woman towards the entrance to the crypts. Fianna looked down at her son as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm tired."

"I know, sweet boy," she bent down, pressing a kiss to his cheek tenderly and glancing over to make sure Aifric was alright too. "We just have to make sure these people are okay. And then we'll get you to bed, alright?"

"Fianna?" A voice met her ears. Standing up swiftly, she turned to see Rickon waiting patiently for her to finish.

"Rickon," she sighed in relief, not having seen the boy all day. "Are you alright? Have you had your soup and bread?"

"Yes, I have," he nodded, looking a little antsy as he prepared to tell her what was on his mind. "But I haven't been given a weapon."

Fianna froze at his comment, swallowing harshly. She had known Rickon since he was a boy, and was struggling with coming to terms with the fact he was more of a man than a child now. It was only natural he'd assume he would be fighting too, all other boys and girls his age were enlisted.

"I- about that... ," she stammered, a sympathetic expression on her face that Rickon immediately recognised.

"No, Fianna," he disputed before she even began. "You can't leave me out of this fight. Not this time. You need everyone you can get."

"But not you," she argued in return. "You haven't been trained well enough for me to feel confident putting you against these things."

"I've trained more than some of the butchers and stewards you've armed, yet you're sending them out there," he scoffed, shaking his head in annoyance.

"I know," she sighed, "and that's selfish of me. But please, I need you to stay in the crypts with Aifric and Eddie. There's no one else I'd trust to keep them safe. They need you down _there_ -"

"Don't give me that shite, Fianna," he cut her off, his language surprising her. Perhaps he grew up faster than she thought. "I'm not a child, I'm not going to believe I'm going down there to protect everyone."

"But you _are_!" Fianna fought back, gesturing for him to come close so she could talk lowly. "In the crypts, if anything goes wrong, I need you to lead them out of there. There's a passage underneath Rickard Stark's statue, once you push it it'll reveal a tunnel. The tunnel leads you to Wintertown if you follow it to the end."

"Why tell me this?" He asked, his interest piqued.

"I've been in enough battles to know something _always_ goes wrong," she swallowed thickly, lowering her voice further to stop the children from hearing. "People we know are going to die tomorrow, no matter what we do. If they break through to the crypts, it's going to be up to you to protect everyone down there."

Her words silenced Rickon, who hadn't considered the responsibility of being one of the few, or only, able-bodied and somewhat experienced people down there.

"One day," he started, looking down towards the ground, "you're going to let me fight beside you. And who knows, maybe I'll even save your family like you and Tiernan have saved mine."

* * *

The scene was almost becoming too familiar for Fianna Stark. An intimate counsel meeting, everyone crouched around a map, and those cursed pawns representing army divisions.

"To recap," Robb began, placing a pawn in the shape of a curved sword at the front, "the Dothraki horde will be leading. I'll be leading the Stark bannerman, Fianna will take the Bua's, they're large enough in numbers to divide off, Lady Brienne will command the Knights of the Vale, Grey Worm with the Unsullied, Tormund with the Wildlings and Lady Mormont will command a small garrison inside the castle for retreat."

"Neither the Twins nor Riverrun answered our raven," Sansa revealed, much to his chagrin. Surely his own uncles would have at least considered assisting in the battle of life and death?

"We can't beat them in a straight fight," Jon sighed, also staring pointedly at the set up.

"Not to mention we are almost hilariously outnumbered," Fianna commented drily.

"So what can we do?" Jaime asked, earning a wary side glance from Robb. Never did the eldest Stark boy imagine he and the Kingslayer would be putting their heads together to fight for his home.

"The Night King made them all," Jon revealed, "they follow his command. If he falls, getting to him may be our best chance."

"From what Tormund has told us," Fianna lifted one of the dragon pieces, "we can't let Viserion anywhere near Winterfell. He could level it in minutes."

Although she'd never admit it in front of others, a part of her did indeed blame herself for Viserion's death. It honestly surprised her that Daenerys never thought the same.

"If that's true, he'll never expose himself," Jaime refuted with a shake of his head.

"Yes he will," Bran disagreed, speaking up for the first time, "he'll come for me. He's tried many times before, with many Three-Eyed Ravens. He wants an endless night, and to erase the world. I am it's memory."

"You're going down to the crypt then, where it's safest," Robb told him, not willing to put his brother at risk. Raven or not, Bran was still Bran in his eyes. Albeit, a little weirder.

"No, we need to lure him into the open before his army destroys us all. I'll wait for him in the Godswood."

"Have you gone stark mad?" Fianna scoffed at the suggestion, "we're not going to dangle you out in open air like that. I say we use the dragons to obliterate his armies, and then turn the scope to him. The dragons could take out a hundred of them in less than a minute."

"No," Bran repeated. "The dragons will be needed to fight Viserion. He'll have to fall from his dragon."

"Luckily, our Fianna has experience with that," Tiernan joked, trying to lighten the heavy tension.

"Regardless," Sansa interrupted, turning to her wheelchair-bound brother, "we're not leaving you alone as bait."

"He won't be," Theon cut in, his voice still low, but slowly he was beginning to regain his confidence. "I'll stay with him. With the Ironborn. I took this castle from you, let me defend it now."

Making eye contact with Robb, the Stark heir gave him the most gratuitous expression he could muster, along with a nod of appreciation. Fianna watched the interaction curiously, she wasn't sure when Theon and Robb had mended bridges. But she would be lying if she said she wasn't glad to see it.

Fianna had seen firsthand how betrayed he felt at Theon's escapades early in the war, having considered him a brother. She also recalled the horrible times Robb suffered through after escaping Ramsay Bolton, the trauma having left a scar. According to Robb, Theon had gone through ten times as much as he had.

"If I may suggest, I don't think it's wise to send your Dothraki battalion forward on their own," Fianna warned, turning her attention to Daenerys, who stiffened at her comment.

"And why is that?" Tyrion asked on her behalf.

"The Dothraki are currently the most vicious fighters in Westeros," Daenerys answered tightly.

"We have to assume that the Night King's army has greatly increased since we last seen it, there are two Northern households unaccounted for and we _know_ one of them has been compromised already. The Dothraki may be fierce, but they are too greatly outnumbered."

"Perhaps you'd rather send your own army forward first then?" Daenerys fired back with a twitch of her eyebrow, silencing her effectively.

Once the meeting dispersed with the idea of rest in mind, Robb took the opportunity to present Fianna with her gift.

"I have a surprise for you," he grinned excitedly, making a beeline for an object in the corner covered with a thin blanket.

"Is it a barrel filled with Wildfire?" She teased with false excitement, unsure what he was about to unveil to her. Within seconds, he lifted the weapon into the air and presented it towards her proudly.

It was the strangest object she had seen yet, the only recognisable aspect of it being it's dragonglass tip. The other end linked to a chain carrying a heavy, iron ball.

"What is it?" Fianna asked with furrowed brows, taking it into her own hands and twirling it in a circle to test its weight.

"It's a mace," he explained, "I had Gendry make it for you, he thinks it will be less troublesome to carry than a sword."

Fianna opened her mouth to protest, but Robb - knowing she was about to lecture him for implying she was weak, clapped his hand over her mouth.

"Ah, ah, ah," he quietened her, an amused grin forming. "You're lucky I'm allowing on the battlefield at all, Fianna. The Gods know you aren't in the best possible condition. Take this weapon and ease my mind, please."

Waiting a second, he dropped his hand to see if she'd protest again. Instead, she dropped her head sullenly, embarrassed of her own constraints. He slipped his fingertip underneath her chin to lift her head, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss.

"I'm only doing this to ease _your_ mind," Fianna mumbled against his lips with a chuckle, "not because you told me to."

"Come on," he slipped his arm around her waist, "I want to spend our last hours with the twins."

" _Our last hours_?" She echoed with a scoff, "that's a rather morbid thought."

"You're right," he sighed, holding back a chuckle, " _your_ last hours."

That comment earned him a smack in the chest once again.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

"I haven't seen much of you today," he spoke directly into her ear to startle her, gaining the reaction intended when Sansa jumped in shock. Clutching her bowl of soup tightly to prevent from spilling it, the redhead clapped her free hand over her chest to still her racing heart.

"I've been busy, I've also spent some of it with Theon," she revealed, sitting down on the nearest barrel. Her tone suggested she didn't intend to make him jealous, but Tiernan wondered none the less.

"I remember the last time I saw a Greyjoy," he sighed wistfully, "I believe it was he and his sister attacking my home and pillaging houses under our allegiance."

"Theon has suffered immensely for his crimes," Sansa defended without hesitation, a warning in her voice that told him to back down.

"I'm not doubting that, my lady," he held his hands in the air in defence. "So tell me, what's on your mind in what's potentially our last few hours?"

"My mother," Sansa admitted, "my father too, but mostly my mother."

Tiernan remained silent, waiting for her to continue. And continue she did.

"I watched my father die, and it was one of the worst moments of my entire life. I've completely blocked out the image from my mind. But my mother... I can't stop thinking about what she felt in her final minutes. How scared she must have been, how heartbroken she would have been thinking her son, and probably daughter, was dead."

Tiernan shook his head in sadness, offering his hand out for her to hold. Upon settling down her now-empty bowl, Sansa actually allowed him to clasp her hand in what was probably the first time she had been so open with him.

"You've suffered enough for any woman ten lifetimes over," he told her, giving her fingers a light squeeze.

"Anyways," she breathed a laugh, downplaying her emotions out of embarrassment and quickly swiping away a stray tear that had pooled under her eye. "I heard your mother married a lowly man out of love. She was either a fool, or a genius."

"A fool," Tiernan answered, his flat tone catching her by surprise. "I suppose if she had chosen to marry out of status she'd probably still be alive."

"Your mother is dead?" Sansa murmured in shock, never having heard about it.

"She's been dead since I was 9," he admitted, finally making eye contact once again. "My mother raised both Fianna and I, but my father died fighting in the Rebellion. According to Cillian, she was never the same afterward. She tried her hardest for our sake, but it all became too much for her..."

Sansa copped onto what he was suggesting and clapped a free hand over her mouth in shock and horror.

"Tiernan... I-" she stammered, struggling to find words.

"It was me that found the body," he continued, finding a cathartic release in finally talking about it. "You're the only one I've told about it, aside from Fianna and Cillian. Everyone else was told she died from a fever, to preserve her legacy."

"I am truly sorry, Tiernan," she spoke sincerely, tears once more forming, except on his behalf this time.

"It's alright," he sniffed, forcing a smile to make her feel better. "I wonder does anyone else have as much bad luck as your family and mine does. Both of our parents are dead."

"We should form some sort of club," Sansa joked, knowing that Tiernan would appreciate some humour to distract from the dire revelation he had just made.

"The 'traumatic experiences club', and you'd be our leader," he teased, causing her to chuckle.

A comfortable silence befell them then, the two content to simply sit with one another while they waited for impending destruction. But all Sansa's mind could focus on was the Bua boy in front of her, wondering how he would react if she acted upon the thoughts in her head.

Deciding that their potential last night alive was as good as any, Sansa shot forward and caught him by surprise, pressing her lips to his. Tiernan froze in temporary shock, unable to quite believe that Sansa would ever actually return his budding feelings.

Eventually, the shock wore off, as he brought his hand up to cup her delicate cheek and kiss her in return. White walkers be damned, Tiernan thought, Sansa Stark could melt the ice of the Night King himself.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"I want a story!" Aifric babbled, voice muffled by the mound of furs and blankets surrounding them. For the night, the twins were brought to sleep next to Robb and Fianna, cuddled in the centre of the bed between them.

"No, you can't have a story, you have to sleep," Robb gently flicked the tip of her nose, his voice soft when speaking to her.

"Just one? Until we fall asleep?" Eddie prompted, looking back and forth between his two parents.

"I want the one with my name!"

"Alright," Fianna conceded with a playful eye roll, laying down to rest her head against the pillow. "There once was a girl named Aifric Bua, who was the fiercest woman in all the land. And she met a man named Cregan, who hailed from the Stark family.

"Aifric didn't like Cregan at the beginning, mainly because he was stubborn and pigheaded, like all Starks are-"

"Hey!" Robb interrupted with an incredulous look.

"Anyways, eventually Aifric began to fall for Cregan, and they were engaged to be married. But then, one day, a foreign ruler came and wanted everyone to name them the new King."

Eddie gasped childishly, Fianna couldn't imagine his reactions if she were to tell the true story. But a child-friendly one seemed appropriate for their ages.

"Cregan got into an argument with this King, and that meant they weren't friends any more."

"What happened then?" Aifric innocently asked, eliciting a shared gaze between Robb and Fianna.

"Well, they made a compromise and all lived happily ever after."

"What's a compomiz?" Eddie questioned, until Fianna soon ticked his ribs and he was left a giggling mess.

"Why are you still _awake_?" She chuckled at his reaction, taking her fingers away before she woke him up too much.

"That's a boring story," Aifric yawned, curling into her father's chest. Fianna scoffed in amusement, if only she knew the truth. The children began to doze off eventually, their antics of the day catching up with them.

"Are you awake?" Robb's voice whispered after quite some time. Fianna was still very much awake, and was merely in the midst of stroking her children's hair."

"Yes."

"Are you afraid?" He asked, his voice strong but with the slightest of quivers that Fianna didn't fail to miss.

"Terrified," she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut to block out the anxious feeling sweeping her body. "But how are you? It's been a while since you've been in battle, Robb..."

"I'll be much better when Dawn comes around and we've won the war," he replied with a breathy laugh, his features just barely distinguishable in the darkness.

"You know," she started, letting out a shaky exhale. "I've been in far more battles that the average person. Too many battles. And I've never dreaded one as much as this."

"I know," he agreed after a moment of contemplation. "I have never gone into a battle actually feeling more like a loss is inevitable, than a win."

"Promise me you're going to see that Dawn, Robb," she pressed, pushing down the threat of tears within her. She didn't need to break down, not now.

"I swear to you, Fianna," he lifted his arm across their twins to reach her hand, conjoining their fingers. "I will always find my way back to you."

"And I'll always find my way back to you."

* * *

Despite being under the impression that she would never sleep in the current circumstances, Fianna found herself jumping awake at the sound of the war horn. Immediately, terror ripped through her body, her eyes darting down to the bleary eyed twins who were just waking up in confusion, and to the empty space of the bed beside them.

"Robb?" She called out, scrambling from bed and slipping on the armour already laid out for a quick application.

"Mama, what's going on?" Eddie questioned, he and his sister following after their mother's steps and climbing from bed.

"It's time to go below, my loves." Fianna knelt down, tugging them forward for an embrace before she would take them to Rickon for a journey to the crypts.

When it came time to let them go, she found herself unable to do so, squeezing them tighter and tighter and saying several prayers for their well being. Finally, she found the strength to let go, pressing prolonged kisses to each of their heads.

The door whipped open suddenly, Fianna whirling around in the hopes of greeting Robb. Her hopes were dashed when saw Rickon instead, waiting alongside Shaggydog to take the twins beneath.

The reality of the situation had finally settled fully. This was it, the final battle was commencing.

And Fianna had never got the chance to say goodbye to Robb.

* * *

 _ **Fair warning, episode 3 had quite a few character deaths, but the next chapter is worse. Like, turning everyone who reads this against me type of worse.**_

 _ **ANYHOO. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - So glad to hear that!**_

 _ **calmenex - I didn't include a lot of scenes from episode 2 because I'm really conscious of not making each chapter just a rewrite of the script, but YES I LOVED THEIR REUNION. Episode 3 broke my heart!**_

 _ **klandgraf2007 - Thanks so much! I'm so glad you like Sansa/Tiernan and Dany v Fianna haha, I hope you enjoy this and what's to come as well x**_


	60. (LIX) The Sacrifice

**_SONG:_** _The Night King by Ramin Djawadi_

 _Fianna_

Fianna Stark powered through the courtyard of Winterfell, adrenaline having flooded her veins ever since the first sound of the war horn met her ears. With her mace, a thin dragonglass sword and three thousand men at her back, she was ready to keep her new home, and her family, safe.

The atmosphere in the air was heavy, with many sullen expressions. Fianna had taken part in many battles, almost too many for a woman of her age. But never had she felt such defeat before it had even truly begun. Her men, and women, were always excited for an upcoming battle. Ready to prove themselves.

But not today. For today, it had seemed as if everyone had accepted they'd be dying before it even began.

"Fianna!" Bonifer's voice met her ears as she reached the front gate, prompting her to whirl around and greet her grandfather.

"Grandfather," she nodded, eyeing his armour and sword in hand, "you're fighting too?"

"I'm a Knight, Fianna," he huffed, taking offence from her insinuation. "Of course I'll be fighting. I'll be right behind you."

She nodded in gratitude, turning back around to follow after the crowd and trail towards her army's designated area - the left most side of the battlefield. Unfortunately for her, Robb would be on the complete opposite end.

"Have you seen Robb?" She called out over her shoulder, setting towards the top of the vanguard. Tiernan may have been the Lord of Baelfort now, but his men had originally pledged fealty to Fianna - they had fought for her many times, and trusted her leadership. Tiernan was confident enough to admit that.

"No, haven't you?" Bonifer retorted in confusion, right on her heels.

"No," Fianna grumbled, shoulders tense at the thought. She wondered dreadfully where Robb had escaped to. Had the horn rang for some time before she awakened? Surely not, or he'd have gathered the children himself downstairs instead of leaving them.

Upon finally joining Tiernan at the front, she nodded in greeting towards her cousin, who grinned cockily.

"'Bout time, _your grace_ ," he drawled, sarcastically using her title. "And there I was thinking I'd be leading by myself."

"Leading men to their deaths, you mean," she teased in return with a lopsided smirk, taking a position at the centre front. Tiernan stood to her left, with Bonifer at her right. Never had Fianna imagined she'd be leading an army of more than the nine hundred she originally held at the start of her reign as Lady of Baelfort, but those numbers had increased massively since she conquered the Dreadfort and the Twins.

Fianna double checked the weapons she had on her person - especially ensuring the whiskey bottle attached to her hip was secured. Upon hearing that the alcohol was flammable, she had ordered for as many of her men as possible to equip themselves with an empty glass bottle, filling it half with whiskey and dangling a cloth from the mouth to be eventually lit. The fire-starters, as she had labelled them, were a last resort. And not to be used within close proximity of the rest of the vanguard.

Much to her chagrin, the Dothraki would be the first to charge. Why Daenerys had ordered any lone group to be on the offence at all - Fianna couldn't understand. But they were _her_ armies to command, not Fianna's.

"Who's that then?" Tiernan pointed towards a lone ranger, seemingly having appeared from the darkness, approaching the front of the Dothraki horde.

"You seem to have me confused with my twin, Tiernan," she rolled her eyes with sarcasm, "the one who's able to see in the dark and from a great distance."

Tiernan opened his mouth to reply, but it was immediately cut off by the sudden light of fire, that seemed to catch onto every blade of every Dothraki soldier in the division. Fianna reeled in shock as she stared at the army in front of her, wondering if the flames had simply caught onto each other or if some divine entity had intervened.

The woman then began to make her way through the warriors, passing by the Bua sector on her travels. Fianna was mesmerised by her appearance - sleek red hair peaking through her hood and a face as porcelain as a statue. She almost jumped when she noticed the woman had been eyeing up Fianna as much as she had been eyeing her.

"You're no stranger to a crown, Queen Fianna," she spoke upon passing the trio, with a thick accent Fianna was unable to place. "And you'll bear its weight on your head again."

Fianna didn't answer until she was out of sight, making her way towards the gates and disappearing from view.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She asked finally, turning around to face the front as the Dothraki ahead of her began to charge forward, their swords being their only light source.

"Either all of us should have charged, or none of us," Tiernan muttered from beside of her, as disapproving of the strategy as Fianna herself was.

"Well," Fianna began, ripping the mace from her scabbard and resting it by her side, "if anyone notices an ice dragon, do let me know."

"I think you'd know around the same time as us," Tiernan sighed, following her lead and taking out his own sword. The lightweight sensation of the dragonglass had threw him at first, but he'd have to get comfortable fairly quickly.

"Well, boys," she swallowed thickly, eyes narrowing as one by one the lights of the Dothraki's swords in the distance began to extinguish - like candles in a room. "It's been a pleasure being related to you."

Eventually, to everyone's absolute horror, the Dothraki were seemingly as obliterated as their light source. The sounds of heavy feet met her ears eventually, signalling that the offence had spurred on the wights to attack in return. With each passing second, the stampede grew louder, the icy ground beneath her feet vibrating.

 _This was it_ , Fianna thought. _The dead are here._

"For what it's worth, Fianna," Tiernan spoke suddenly, holding his sword forward, "you were always more of a sister than a cousin."

Fianna never did get the chance to reply, for stomping had eventually manifested into a wave of undead barrelling straight towards them, only seen in the distance.

Deciding she wasn't going to wait to be attacked, Fianna held her mace high in the air, gathering the attention of all those behind her.

She held it for a second, the wights mere seconds way from obliterating their force. But Fianna wasn't going to let anyone go down without a fight.

So with a swift swing of her sword in the downward direction, herself and her army flooded forward whilst the others remained stationary, meeting the wall of undead head on.

If Cillian Bua taught his daughter anything - it was that offence was better than defence.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark had made a massive mistake.

Upon resting alongside his children and wife mere hours before, he had spent a long time trying to fall into a sleep as deep as they had, but he couldn't bring himself to.

Every time he closed his eyes, images flashed in his mind of brutality and bloodshed. Simultaneously, an excitement had filled him about the battle to come. He hadn't truly been able to prove himself since his days in the War of the Five Kings. This battle would not only prove to be an opportunity, but also the chance to protect those he loved most.

Except his sleeplessness had led to him seeking out a distraction, which came in the form of drinking a cup of wine alongside Tyrion Lannister. At the beginning, all was well. They rejoiced in stories of war, cheered when Brienne of Tarth had been knighted in an impromptu ceremony and became emotional when her squire sang a haunting song.

Then the war horn had rang. And he never got the opportunity to say goodbye to his wife and children as originally intended. For by the time he reached their chambers once again, Fianna and the twins had long since disappeared. Robb had no other choice but to grab his sword and lead his vanguard - comprised of ten thousand Northerners and his own direwolf.

The Dothraki, as expected, didn't last long. Perhaps they were fierce in battle - against those that were human. But the white walkers weren't human, and bringing their own weapons into a fight against them felt like ridiculously bad planning in his opinion.

Usually, Robb felt an eerie calmness settle over him in the moments before a battle. As if his body were convincing him that everything would work out. But this was the first proper battle he would be engaged in since learning he was a father, and that calmness was unable to obtain. All he could think of as the rumbling in the distance sounded out was Aifric's cheeky grin, or Eddie's skip when he ran. Or Fianna's dimples when she laughed a little too hard.

"Get ready!" He barked out to those behind him, hoping his words would pass back through the vanguard. Grey Wind began to growl viciously beside him, the sound vibrating through his throat. The direwolf was by far the tallest of his brothers, reaching up to Robb's shoulder now. For every man a soldier could take, Grey Wind could take five with a swift rip of their neck. But he wasn't here today to kill the wights, his teeth weren't exactly made of dragonglass. He was here to help where he could.

As soon as the sea of wights neared them, Robb barely had a chance for his expression to drop in horror. The way they scrambled toward them was absolutely bloodthirsty, piled high on top of each other impatiently. Most of them were decayed bodies, mere bones with eyes as blue as sapphire. But that didn't mean they were in any way weak, as they slammed against the front of the Northern army and immediately pushed the front line, which included Robb, flush back against the others.

Barely able to see through the darkness and crowd of bodies, Robb swung his sword through the air, slashing across torsos, limbs and skulls. They went down fairly easy once hit with dragonglass or Valyrian steel, he found.

Robb grunted furiously as no matter how much he fought, the cramped conditions never seemed to cease or let up. Every body was replaced with yet another fighting wight, desperate to tear his throat out.

The smell of their decaying bodies was eye-watering, but it was also the last thing Robb focused on at that moment. The darkness also meant that it was beginning to become difficult to decipher between the living and the dead, or such was the case when a heavy shield smashed against the back of Robb's head and sent him flailing towards the ground. He landed on top of the mound of bodies Robb himself had formed, a shrill ringing in his ear and a blurriness in his vision as he desperately tried to focus.

Taking a deep breath, ignoring the pain that had taken over his entire skull, Robb placed his fists against the ground and pushed himself up until he could stand up fully. Giving himself a shake, he blinked rapidly to get his vision to focus. Although the scene hadn't changed much from before - they were in _way_ over their heads.

A shadow cast out the moonlight above, but Robb couldn't afford to look as his sword swung without a moment of relaxation. Its source soon became obvious, as a booming shriek filled the skies and a cloud of fire rained down upon the army in front of him, following up a trail along the front.

Robb stopped himself from grinning in relief as the immense pressure in front of them relaxed slightly, knowing that this war had only just begun. But perhaps it would be over sooner than he thought, now that Daenerys had listened to Fianna and rode her dragon out to stop the wights herself.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Ash from the flames almost burned the eyes out of her skull, but Fianna couldn't allow herself to let up. All she could see for miles was warring duos, flamed from Drogon and Rhaegal's mouths and bodies - both from her own army and theirs.

Using the back of her hand to swipe across her closed eyes, and ending up paining them even more, she ripped the bottle from the holding on her side and thanked the Gods it hadn't been smashed thus far. For it was about to be.

Leaning the strip of cloth dangling from its mouth down to a nearby fire, Fianna waited until it lit up fully before hurtling the whiskey through the air and watching the flames that followed it smashing against a wight's head.

Her actions had prompted the few others of her battalion that held bottles to follow, using the dragon's fiery remnants to lessen the onslaught in front of them.

"Fianna!" Tiernan shouted, slicing their family's sword through an enemy's skull.

" _What_?" She screamed back over the roaring flames and screeching walkers, lifting her uninjured foot and kicking one of them back into the fire.

"I think I really like her!" He called back, voice tense from exertion. His arms were screaming at him in pain from the weight of lifting Wolfsbane for so long without pause.

"Who in Seven Hells are you on about?" She rolled her eyes, swinging the metal ball of her mace and managing to shatter a wight's decaying skull, before shoving the dragonglass tip into its chest.

"Sansa Stark! Who else?" Tiernan huffed, turning and spotting one that was making a beeline for Fianna and hurtling his sword through the air. He was shocked when it actually managed to hit its target - perhaps Tiernan's skills weren't with archery or swords, but with throwing.

"I think there are slightly more pressing matters at hand here, Tiernan!" Fianna suddenly dropped to her knees, hands covering her head as a flaming glass from one of her own men shattered mere feet away from her, flames following its breakage. Once she made sure she wasn't on fire herself, she stood up and looked around with wild eyes. "Who the fuck threw that?!"

"Sorry, your grace!" A voice howled back from the distance.

"I'm going to ask for her hand in marriage! What do you think?" Tiernan continued, voice shouting to ensure she heard him.

"Tiernan," she stopped to stab an incoming wight that was sprinting towards her, "if you even make it out of here alive, I can't see Robb letting you live any longer than that once he hears you're after Sansa!"

Their untimely bickering was interrupted by a sudden cool wind, one unlike anything Fianna had ever experienced. It was even colder than the air above the wall, settling in your chest and making every breath painful on the lungs. Whatever their chances of survival were before, it was greatly decreased by the newly freezing temperatures.

Jon hadn't been lying when he said the Night King brings the storm.

Through the misty air, Fianna's arm dropped down by her side as she took in their surroundings. No matter how much they fought back, the wights never seemed to let up. Faces of men and women, young and old, that she had recognised were stony and lifeless on the ground, taken before their time. Too many to count.

Bonifer was nowhere to be seen, but she couldn't allow herself to think about that now. For if she truly started thinking about the ones missing, she'd start a downward spiral of worry for Robb. Fianna needed to focus on fighting back before a distraction cost her her life.

Despite the lightness of the weapon, she still felt the strain in her arms from using it tirelessly. She found herself wishing she had never brought Viserion across the wall, for if she hadn't, she'd have been riding him through the skies at that point in time.

With that thought, she realised another very prominent problem they were now faced with. The sudden storm was extinguishing the fires; and thus their only source of light. Not only that, but Daenerys hadn't flown past them in quite a while.

"Fianna!" Bonifer's shout met her ears, prompting her to whirl around and see her grandfather, atop a horse, beckoning for her. "They're calling for a retreat! Move back!"

"A retreat?" She echoed in a whisper. Plan A, which was to keep the armies out on the field, had failed. Now to enact Plan B - defensive strategies from inside the castle walls.

"Retreat!" Fianna roared at the top of her voice, hoping everyone could hear. Her shout caught like wildfire, with other Bua men then shouting along with it to make sure any outliers would know what was happening.

Swiftly, Fianna bit her lip harshly to clamp down on the pain in her foot, which hadn't posed a problem until they were forced to sprint back to the castle.

* * *

 _Sansa_

Sansa Stark hated feeling useless. She had spent many years in King's Landing feeling helpless as her brother fought for her freedom, as her sister was nowhere to be seen, as her father was beheaded mere feet away from her.

Since returning to Winterfell after escaping the Bolton's clutches, Sansa rarely felt helpless any more. She was the one people turned to for help and advice, the unspoken Lady of Winterfell. But when it came to a battle between the living and dead, her planning and leadership abilities were of no help.

Shooed to the crypts by Arya, she walked sullenly past the statues of her ancestors, trying to avoid the inquisitive eyes that fixated on her. Sansa held her head high, trying to appear as neutral as possible. But the second she met Tyrion's gaze, it wavered. He knew her better than she thought.

Those were her people out there, being slaughtered to defend their home. Her brother, her sister and good-sister, and Tiernan. Whatever he meant now.

"Sansa!" A childlike voice called out happily, urging her to lift her head from her newly seated position to see little Eddie sprinting at full force towards her. She gasped when he collided with her torso, but hugged him back immediately, allowing her nephew to sit in her lap. Rickon appeared behind him, walking much slower, with Aifric teetering at his side and clasping his hand.

Her brother settled himself next to her, dropping his voice to a murmur as he knew Sansa would never be honest in front of the others. They were too worried to hear the truth.

"What's going on up there?" He whispered, wincing as Aifric tugged on his curls playfully, giggling to herself afterward.

"It's bad," she admitted after a moment's hesitance. "The Dothraki were obliterated within seconds. Their soldiers are cutting through our armies like a knife through bread, and the worst Winter storm I've ever seen has just started. The last I heard, they were calling for a retreat."

"A retreat?" Rickon asked in surprise, glancing between the two twins. "What happens if they break through the castle walls?"

Sansa stayed silent at first, before forcing the corners of her lips up into a small, sarcastic smile.

"Then we're dead."

* * *

 _Robb_

"Move it!" He roared at the top of his voice, stopping to stab through a wight that came within close enough contact of him. The Northern army were sprinting back towards the gates of Winterfell, having finally realised that they were fighting a losing war. Plan A had failed.

Robb had been at the front of the Vanguard, meaning he would be one of the last to get back inside. The Unsullied stood defensively, protecting their retreat, much to his gratitude. But nothing was protecting the Northerners from _each other_.

Fuelled by death nipping at their heels, the soldiers fought, kicked and punched their way to the front, trampling over those that had fallen. The scene was absolutely brutal, and to those who had been present, it was a profound reminder of the suffocating entrapment in the Battle of the Bastards.

Robb tried his hardest not to get caught up in the stampede, but to still stay close enough to his soldiers so he wasn't singled out as an easy target. The wights scrambled to follow after them, and with the majority of soldiers fighting to get inside the castle, the duty to protect was left to Robb, the Unsullied, and every other man or woman who happened to be at the rear of the crowd.

As if they had been solely focused on him, a group of four came barrelling towards Robb, knocking him flat on his back and winding him entirely. Pushing through the shock that left him breathless, the King gathered himself and swung his sword from his position on the ground. Once he was clear enough to stand once more, Robb leapt up to follow after the others.

"Your gr-" a hand clamped down on his elbow suddenly, and reacting out of pure instinct, Robb didn't hesitate to whip around and whip his sword through the air again. But the image he was met with when he finally saw what he had hit would stick in his mind for the rest of his life.

Instead of the body falling limply to the ground, an unfamiliar woman remained upright for a moment. Warm blood spurting from the deep slash in her side. Filled with abject horror when he noticed her eyes were a deep brown, and not a bright blue, he let out a shout.

Robb caught the woman before she slumped to the ground, allowing her body to lay down gently as it shook with her injury. Her mouth coughed up blood, the life slowly draining from her form - and all Robb could do was watch at the destruction he had caused. Within seconds, the woman was dead.

She bore no sigil across her chest, armour having been made too hastily to include it. More than likely she was a simple serving girl at Winterfell, enlisted into fighting a battle she had no right being involved with. Tears welled up in his eyes from the overwhelming sense of guilt. It wasn't a feeling he felt much nowadays, but the shock and self-hatred of his actions had been very familiar indeed. Something he hadn't felt since he was convinced he murdered his wife.

Except this time, he genuinely had murdered an innocent woman.

"Your grace!" Gendry shouted, just barely heard through the ringing in Robb's ears as he numbly stared at the body beneath him. "We have to move, come on!"

The Baratheon bastard slapped his hand harshly against Robb's back, waking him from the dazed state he had been in. Lifting his head up, he saw another wave of undead making their way straight towards him, and this time - he didn't have his vanguard at his back for support.

Robb shot up onto his feet and began to run as fast as he could alongside Gendry. The wights decomposing features clearly hadn't affected their stamina. Luckily, the bulk of the crowd had already managed their way inside. He could practically hear Lyanna Mormont's voice already, barking at them to hurry up.

The King was one of the last to reach the gate, whipping around and furrowing his brows as he noticed the Unsullied remained stationary in their defensive position.

"Grey Worm!" He shouted after noticing him some length away. The commander turned around, clearly shaken from his experiences and coated in a thick layer of blood and ash. Robb suspected he looked quite similar himself. "Call your men back!"

"Valar Morghulis, Robb Stark," was all he said in return, a quiver in his voice that he had never heard any other time the man spoke. It soon became obvious to the Stark what his intentions were, as the undead wiped through the Unsullied line by line without resistance.

He was going to let them die.

Making the executive decision that there was no time to convince him otherwise, Robb sprinted the final stretch towards the door until he was inside the courtyard of Winterfell again. Placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath, he met the stern gaze of Lyanna Mormont, who gave him a nod in greeting.

"Light the trenches!" He roared for all to hear, well aware that if anyone was on the other side - they weren't making it back.

Robb said a silent prayer that Fianna wasn't one of them.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Queen in the North had made a beeline for the top of the walls the second she landed inside the courtyard. There was no time to take count of those she couldn't find, or wonder how many of her men were lost. All she could do was make a mental estimation of the survivors.

Her conclusion was that they were completely, and without a doubt, fucked.

Scaling walls, or stopping those who attempted it, was something she considered herself an expert at. From coating her own walls in Wolfsbane to poison those incoming, or dipping grapple hooks and ropes in the toxic substance, she always managed to figure out a way. But Wolfsbane wasn't going to be effective now, not against this breed of enemy.

She wasn't particularly _bad_ at archery, but anyone who knew Fianna knew she didn't have the patience or poise to be particularly _good_. Even with sword fighting she was wild and uncontrolled, but Fianna would have fired a flaming trebuchet herself if it meant stopping the wights scaling the walls.

The second they made it over the walls, Plan B would be ruined. From the corner of her eye, she saw the lady from earlier who was dressed entirely in red kneeling over the trenches, likely using the little fire trick she had showcased earlier.

After a tense moment, and with literal seconds to spare, the trenches lit up in a blaze of glory. Not only would they stop the wights from reaching Winterfell's walls, but it would hopefully signal to Daenerys that Plan B was effectively in motion. And that several, or several dozen, 'dracarys''s would be needed from her.

Everyone atop the wall visibly took a breath at the sight, allowing Fianna a moment to look around at those surrounding her. She recognised a very beaten looking Jaime Lannister, and Brienne of Tarth looking as prepared as ever for a fight. Tiernan was on the higher tier alongside the archers, ready to enact the suggestion she had shouted to him once they reached the gates.

"Those trenches won't hold forever," she called out, naturally assuming a leadership position. "I need barrels and crates of alcohol! Now! And spread the bloody word about it!"

Like rats, everyone scattered off in every direction, desperately searching for the flammable substance that she hoped would be stationed at every guard point on the wall. A look of realisation caught on to Jaime's expression as he realised her intentions, giving her a swift nod in something she thought resembled respect. Although she could never be quite sure.

As soon as barrels began to roll into sight, every man and woman got to work to lifting them up next to the crooks between the wall and leaning against them, waiting to pour them out onto any insurgents that managed to bypass the barricades. The moments waiting for something to happen were tense, Fianna allowing herself to close her eyes for a moment of relief when Drogon suddenly soared through the clouds covering the sky and began spitting out bursts of flames.

Jaime eyed the Queen aside him, watching as she took quick breaths to slow down her racing heart. He had heard many things about The She Wolf in battle, but it was a very different viewpoint when he was on the same side and not the opposing one. If she had inherited anything from the Buas - it was her father's strategic mindset.

"How many have we lost?" She turned and asked, upon noticing his staring.

"Too many," he replied grimly, staring back out at the dragon he had attempted to kill just weeks before.

* * *

It didn't take long for the wights to break through the trench fires, but Fianna thought she'd have _more_ time. The cold winds remained without any sign of wavering. Laying down one by one and sacrificing themselves as a bridge for the others, the wights flooded across the gaps like water down a stream.

Heavy bangs were heard on the wooden door downstairs, but Fianna didn't concern herself with it. The enemies trying to break through the front were the problem of those down there, she had to focus on those climbing the wall.

As viciously as they had sprinted across the field, clambering on top of each other, they flung themselves against the wall until eventually the crowd began to rise upward instead of crushing inward.

"Now!" Jaime called out, opening up the cork on the barrel simultaneously with the others and allowing the liquid to spill out onto the rising bodies beneath. Trying to conserve the liquid, he then signalled towards the nearest archer to dip their arrow head into the fire pit and keep shooting until a flame caught. It took several tries for the arrow to hit a walker that was coated enough, but the flames that arose as a result were worth it.

Fianna tilted her barrel once more, pouring out more of its contents and igniting the flame even further. As it expanded, a wave of heat rose up and hit her face, sending her flailing backward in an attempt to avoid burning herself. But her plan had worked - so far. They had managed to wipe out dozens of wights, but it had taken several barrels of alcohol to do so, they didn't have near enough to keep this charade going for more than a few minutes.

True to her estimation, they had managed to fend off the horde for a total of four minutes before the first enemies were able to climb through without resistance, and the alcohol had run dry. Fianna fought off those through her sector, but she couldn't stop those that scaled through the gaps defended by no one.

Another lesson of her father's, once one climbs the wall - they all can.

And climb they did.

Spreading like fire, the enemy swarmed over the wall and through the castle as easily as air is breathed. Fianna was forced to rethink her plan when the last few drops of alcohol hit. The wooden texture of the barrel slipped under her hand, and she was reminded that the alcohol formerly inside wasn't the only flammable thing.

Dipping the edges of the barrel over the fire pits until it fully caught flame, she ended up flailing the barrel over the edge and successfully knocking and firing up about a dozen wights.

The place she had come to call home was now a place filled with bloodshed and screaming, everywhere she looked she saw swords swinging and wights howling. With each passing second, Fianna wondered when the next plot twist would come, to drive the nail in their proverbial coffin. She was expecting Viserion's arrival any minute.

A sudden weight had flung itself at her whilst she was in the midst of carrying another barrel, slamming her against the brick wall with a shout. Screaming in agony as the wight stomped on her foot, she pressed her hands on its shoulders and locked her elbows to stop him breaking her defensive hold.

"Fianna!" Tiernan's voice met her ears, as he swerved around the corner and saw his cousin in a rather unfavourable situation.

"What!" She shouted back, lifting her good leg and trying to kick at its bony legs.

Whirling Wolfsbane through the air with a slight whipping sound, he sliced through the weight and released its hold on her, which she celebrated momentarily for by actually allowing herself to breathe.

"Thanks," she coughed, rubbing the back of her head as it ached from the whack against the wall.

"Well, what can I say? I'll need you to calm Robb when I ask Sansa-" his voice was cut off with a deep, guttural sound emanating from his own throat, and a scream erupting from Fianna's.

Seemingly out of thin air, a wight had jumped forward and sank his teeth into Tiernan Bua's neck - in an area that Fianna knew was one of the most deadly places on the body to be wounded. Blood spurred out immediately, through the air and out from his mouth.

"No!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, flailing forward and throwing all of her body weight at the wight to knock it to the ground. Once down, she took her dragonglass dagger and stabbed it in the chest several times, screaming out in agony all the same.

Finally, and much too late, Fianna dropped the blade and turned around to Tiernan, cries of horror still falling from her mouth without ceasing as the man who was more a brother than a cousin, and more a best friend than anyone in the world, slumped down onto his knees, before falling onto his back.

* * *

 _Tiernan_

Tiernan Bua didn't need to be a healer to know that his injury was fatal.

If it wasn't for the bucket of blood that had spilled from the tear along his neck, or the way he hadn't realised he had collapsed until all he saw was clouds above, Fianna's screams would have confirmed it.

He saw his cousin at her best and certainly at her worst - held her while she mourned her father, supported her when she thought Robb was gone, even dutifully waited outside while she gave birth to the Twins. But he had never heard his cousin scream and wail the way she was doing now.

"No, no, no!" She repeated over and over, dropping to her knees beside him and desperately covering his neck with her hands. It was futile, of course. But that was his cousin - stubborn.

" _Tiernan_ -" she cried, shaking violently from both shock and horror. The man could physically feel the life draining from his body, but he still pushed himself to use his last bit of energy to try and talk.

"I-I'm s-s... sorry," his lips hitched every time he spoke, breathing becoming restricted as blood pooled in his throat.

"No, no! Don't be sorry!" She shook her head, tears cascading down her dirt-coated cheeks and leaving thin streaks in their wake. "You're going to be just fine!"

"T-then... why- why are you crying?" He sputtered, beginning to cough violently. This was it, he don't know how he knew but he knew. Death was coming for him. Tiernan could practically smell it enveloping around him.

Heartbroken, Fianna cupped his blood-stained cheeks, trying to get him to focus on her as his eyes began to blankly fixate above her, on the clouds once more. Tiernan had once been told that when a man died he saw brief flashes of his life lived, all in a matter of seconds. He didn't know if that was what he was experiencing now, but he was too at peace to concentrate on any justifiable cause.

 _5.._

The dark clouds above his head had transformed into white and fluffy ones, blocking out the shining sun above. A child's laughter rang in his ear, and when his eyes followed it's source, he saw a little girl running away from him. Long dark hair cascaded down her back, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, he saw her beaming expression and grey eyes.

 _4.._

A woman with hair as long as her torso sat him down in her lap, humming a song he recognised as they sat together in front of the fire.

 _3.._

A door was opened at the end of the hallway, with maids and servants gathered around and screaming in horror. One covered her eyes and fled from the scene - but he wasn't put off. He had to push through the adults to reach the doorway, their elbows knocking against his head. When he finally arrived, his entire body froze as if plunged into an icy lake. The same woman who had just sat him in her lap and doted upon him had blood coating her forearms, slumped lifelessly against the side of her bed.

 _2.._

Two whet nurses had just emerged from behind a closed door, two bundled bodies each wrapped in blankets in the crook of their arms. He heard a surprised gasp fall from his own lips as he trailed toward them, lifting his now massive hand up to gently pet their soft heads. The whet nurse in front of him looked far from ecstatic at the new delivery, anxiously looking back and forth between him and the closed door.

"The healer says she's bleeding too much."

 _1.._

The warmth from the fire was nothing compared to the warmth that had settled over his body. The fiery redhead next to him laid her head against his shoulder, the two now fully comfortable with the other as they had bridged a gap between them. She had curled into his side, whispering prayers for his safety in the coming hours, and for that of their family.

 _0._

* * *

 _Robb_

By the time Robb had reached the courtyard, the giant he had heard shouts about was already dead. Squinting through the misty air, he stepped toward it, giving it a slight kick to make sure it wasn't playing with him. It was then that he had noticed a much smaller body laid on its other side, limp and likely dead.

Struck by the girl's size, he stepped around the carcass and shook his head with sadness as he recognised little Lyanna Mormont. Robb always thought of her as invincible - but it was clear the Army of the Dead spared no one.

A pain-filled screech of one of the dragon's was heard from above, prompting him to snap his head up and investigate. It was a very familiar sound, albeit one he hadn't heard since Viserion had been shot down.

Grey Wind suddenly galloped out from one of the tunnels, his coat matted with fur and teeth dipped in blood. The direwolf paused some metres away, waiting for an instruction from his master. Robb knew that he was alright for the time being, but he couldn't stand not knowing about his wife's condition any longer.

"Go help our girl," he commanded, petting his head momentarily before both master and pet separated, sprinting in opposite directions to help those that they loved.

The second he reached the broken through gate, he saw a dark mass fall through the sky and skid across the ground about a mile away from himself. He couldn't tell from that distance whether or not it was Rhaegal or Drogon, but either way, it's rider would need his help.

As much as he hated to admit it, they would have been positively _fucked_ if they didn't have Jon and Daenerys' air support in the form of two full-grown dragons. Looking around at the home he grew up in, there was a definite feeling of loss filling him. Whatever the wights hadn't destroyed, the fire did. But even still, Winterfell had been rebuilt many times before and would be again.

"Robb Stark," a feminine accented voice called out, urging him to turn around to its source. He found the caller in the form of a woman, clothed all in red with a serene calmness on her expression that contrasted with the chaos around her. Robb recognised her as the magical woman that had brought fire to both the Dothraki's swords and the trenches.

"What?" He asked hesitantly, chest falling up and down with exertion as she slowly made her way across the bloodied courtyard towards him, as if a war wasn't raging all around her.

Robb swung his dragonglass blade through an incoming wight, trying to focus on any incoming enemies whilst she approached him. When they were finally close enough together for her to grab his blade, she did so with a firm grip, tugging it to rise up.

Muttering a chant in a language he didn't understand, his sword suddenly lit up between her fingertips in a wave of fire. Robb stumbled backward in surprise, his grip tightening around its handle as he tried not to burn himself with his newly modified weapon.

"The bringer of death is a King," she spoke cryptically, nodding towards the field behind Winterfell they had previously fought on. "But so are you. There is nothing stronger than royal blood."

"The bloody hell is that supposed to mean?" He drowned in confusion when she began to walk backward, heading towards one of the few closed doors to the castle.

"Go for the big one," she finally replied, disappearing into the dark hallway and leaving him with a flaming sword, much like that of Beric Dondarrion's.

Robb had been so lost in his thoughts, he jumped in surprise when Drogon roared over his head, heading over the castle and stopping somewhere in the battlefield.

 _The big one_ , he thought, as if it had been a sign.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Bua native had slumped her forehead against Tiernan's breastplate after he drew his last breath, body stilling and eyes now forever empty. Her body wracked with sobs as she clutched the man beneath her, looking and feeling incredibly young at that moment. After her aunt, her mother and her father's death, Tiernan was the only true Bua left. And now that part of her family was gone forever.

"Fianna," she heard shouted into her ear, strange hands clutching onto her shoulders and shaking her in an attempt to get her to stand again.

"Fuck off," she cried against the metal beneath her, but the person simply crouched down relentlessly.

"Fianna," the man spoke again, and this time she met his eyes. The Queen would have been less surprised if the Night King himself had been by her side - anyone other than Jaime Lannister. "I know, believe me, I know. But you have to keep moving or else you're going to join him."

Stubbornly, Fianna used all her strength to shove him off, but shuffled to get ready to stand nonetheless. Wiping at her damp cheeks with the bank of her hands and sniffing, she leaned in to place a kiss against Tiernan's forehead.

" _Thank you for everything_ ," she whispered against the skin, allowing herself their final moment together before finally standing up straight. In the minutes that had passed since Tiernan had been attacked, Winterfell had gone to ruins.

The courtyard beneath was packed with people, looking horrifically cramped even with more than enough casualties on both sides. A glint of steel caught her eye from beside his body, and despite feeling entirely wrong for doing so, she crouched down and lifted the long sword into her hand.

Its weight and handle was disconcertingly familiar, but Wolfsbane wasn't her sword any more. It would always be Tiernan's until it was passed to the next generation.

Before she could get the chance to break down again, Fianna pushed all emotions to the back of her skull and took towards the wooden staircase that would lead her to the courtyard. This war was far from over, and she was only proving to be dead weight while she mourned.

She was forced to quickly readjust to the weight of the sword, but within minutes adrenaline had flooded her body and distracted from the aches in her biceps.

Almost as if aware of her previous injury, a legless wight that was crawling around the ground gripped her left foot and gave it a sharp tug.

Fianna let out a shout of pain, before ramming the tip of her blade through its skull. She grit her teeth to keep from screaming, in both pain and frustration, and continued to stand at the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the all and slicing through anyone that came near.

There was a sudden stillness in the air, where she noticed anyone in the vicinity that was living froze out of nowhere, looking around in bewilderment. It was then that she heard a faint crackling noise, not alike with a fire - more similar to bones breaking over and over again.

A scuffle sounded from next to her feet, prompting her to look down. Fianna's eyes widened with horror as a very much deceased Northman, who had been motionless moments before, was now slowly raising himself up off the ground. If that sight hadn't been eerie enough, the shimmery blue eyes he suddenly had really sent the message across.

But of course, it wasn't just happening to this lone person. One single glance around showed Fianna that every single person who had died that day was now standing, doubling the wights numbers even though they were already heavily outnumbered.

An icy coldness of realisation settled on her shoulders like a blanket as her mind came to a conclusion that the Night King had arrived, and had resurrected all the dead just as Jon said he could.

To confirm a suspicion that spawned in her mind, Fianna slowly turned on her heel to look at the staircase she had just descended down. Sure enough, she had proven herself right when she saw her recently passed cousin now standing at the top instead of laid down.

His eyes were closed at the beginning, and for a moment she allowed herself to hope that he had survived the neck wound after all. That hope was slashed like a blade across a chest when Tiernan cracked his neck to both sides, and then opened his eyes, revealing the unnatural colour to them.

"No," she whispered to herself, hand beginning to shake as she held the sword while Tiernan began to descend. "Please don't make do this."

Letting out a scream that she was sure penetrated her entire skull, as if he were kickstarted with energy, 'Tiernan' leapt off the staircase midway through and dived directly for her, knocking her to the ground effectively.

Having dropped Wolfsbane, Fianna fought endlessly to keep both his hands and his mouth away from her vulnerable areas. She knew if given a chance, the undead monster on top of her would either gouge out her eyes or rip out her throat. Despite being dead, Tiernan retained all of his previous weight and muscle. He was significantly stronger than other wights she fought, purely because the process of decay hadn't started yet.

His teeth snapped viciously over her face, a breath away from tearing her skin. Against her will, Fianna found tears beginning to leak out from the corners of her eyes once more. Tiernan would have hated seeing what he had become, she should have burned him when there was a chance to.

And now she'd have to be the one to seal his fate.

Cupping her hand around his throat and keeping him at arm's length, Fianna's free hand grappled for the sword she had dropped, grunting in frustration when her fingers didn't yet slip over it.

Allowing herself a temporary glance, she saw that if she stretched a little further she'd reach her target. Fianna did so without hesitation, but the shift in her body and momentarily lapse of vision and concentration allowed Tiernan to release himself from her hand and fly down, sinking his teeth into her jaw.

Fianna let out a scream of pain as he violently used his teeth to tear at her jaw, almost gnashing on it. She suspected he had intended for a more dangerous area like the neck, like he himself had died from, but Tiernan was ripping at whatever he could get.

Like a gift from the many Gods, his body had suddenly been flung off of hers, a dark mass of fur shoving Tiernan to the side and freeing her from his clutches. Fianna could have cried again when she noticed the greyish tones of the wolf's fur that could only have been Grey Wind, immediately hopping to her feet to follow after.

Tiernan scrambled around to try and get back up, but she had the upper hand now being the one standing. Lifting her foot and placing it down harshly on his chest to keep him in place, Fianna dragged the sword up from the ground beneath and brought it down, impaling it through his chest.

Once again, the air had stilled. Well, the air around Fianna specifically. She froze as the body beneath her that had been desperately clawing to escape seconds before slumped back against the ground. The Queen couldn't bring herself to look down, fearing for her own mental state if she had to see the damage she inflicted. Wight or not, Tiernan still looked very much like Tiernan.

The sound of a dragon's screams from the battlefield distracted her from the body beneath her foot. Still not looking down as she lifted up her sword, Fianna turned and headed straight towards the gate to peer out. Sure enough, there were plenty of Undead Dothraki and many others who had lost their lives out there, also resurrected. Daenerys was doing her best on Drogon's back to cut through them, but there were many more to be dealt with.

Fianna had previously pocketed two more of her homemade firestarters from the dead Bua men before they resurfaced, their weight on her hip bearing heavier on her mind. It wasn't until she saw a figure fighting back on their own against the crowd that she knew she needed to help too. However she could.

* * *

 _Rickon_

It started off with a scratching noise. The crypts weren't soundproof to begin with, so they thought nothing of it when it began. Its inhabitants were too preoccupied with the screams and battering resounding against the door.

Shaggydog bristled all of a sudden, jumping up until he was standing on all fours with his growls reverberating around the brick walls. The direwolf stepped forward, almost defensively, in front of the surviving group who were huddled together.

"Shaggydog?" Rickon questioned, shuffling Aifric off of his lap until he was able to stand up, moving to follow. The wolf continued to growl down the hallway at something they were unable to see, the torches only having been lit in the surrounding areas.

"What is that?" Sansa gasped at the sound of bricks smashing against the ground, trying to focus through the darkness ahead. The next sound came from directly aside them, followed by a scream from Gilly and a cry from her son.

Rickon whipped back around, dragging his dragonglass sword from his scabbard before he could even stop to analyse the bony hand jutting out from his great grandfather's grave. The children began to scream immediately as the youngest Stark boy ran towards the crawling undead and stabbed him through the skull.

Rickon had heard that the Night King had the potential to reanimate the dead, it was proving disastrous that no one stopped to consider that could include those long gone and buried. While he was distracted with his great grandfather, a flurry of skeletons with thinning strips of hair like straw had appeared from the shadows, grabbing those closest to them.

Sansa hauled Eddie up into her arms, gesturing for Tyrion to grab Aifric's hand as they sprinted in the opposite direction of the newly awakened corpses, the crowd around following their lead. However they soon stopped in their tracks too, turning back around swiftly when they saw the undead emerging from that side as well.

The group were trapped in the middle, with Rickon and Sansa being the only ones somewhat armed. As he struck down any wights that came close enough to the group, he finally calmed his racing mind enough to stop and think about the situation.

This was it. This was how he was going to prove himself and save his family.

"Everyone!" He bellowed to garner their attention and quiet their screams, "get behind Rickard's statue now!"

So desperate for a leader and saviour, they flocked behind the Stark boy as he led the way forward, smashing his way through the wights. Some of them were fairly easy to take down, a mere kick or smack enough to smash their badly decayed bones into breaking apart. It was the fresher ones he had to worry about it, and through it all, he silently prayed he wasn't killing his father too.

Sure, Ned Stark was headless. But the dead were also rising, so clearly the laws of reality didn't apply that day.

* * *

 _Fianna_

She felt him before she saw him. An icy wind like nothing she had ever felt almost cutting her in two.

Fianna had been running through the darkness, eager to find either Jon or Daenerys - who ever had fallen from their dragon. But the sight of two piercing blue orbs through all the black made her stop in her place. It wasn't the first wight she had seen that day, and the one approaching could have easily been another one.

But she knew it wasn't any simple wight. Or even a white walker. This was him. She had felt a similar sensation when she emerged from the water above the wall. The Night King had sought her out then, and he was seeking her now.

A cloud of fire from one of the dragons lit up in the distance, where she was finally able to make out his outline and the crowd of wights in the distance that she imagined were her reawakened fellow Dothraki, Unsullied and Northerners.

Looking behind her, she saw that he was making a direct path to the gates of Winterfell. More specifically - to Bran. But he would have to go through her first.

A sudden burst of anger filled from deep within her, causing her skin to bristle and her teeth to grit. Fianna felt practically murderous as she watched his figure come closer and closer. He had taken her dragon, almost taken her life, permanently damaged her foot and killed one of the people she cared most for in the world.

If she could describe the amount of fury she currently directed at the creature, it would be akin to that of Ramsay Bolton, or Walder Frey. Two men who had come close to taking everything from her.

Tightening her grip on her sword, Fianna began to stalk forward as well, fully intending to meet him in his tracks. The light had begun to dim again, forcing her to have to squint through the darkness to try and see him. One moment, he was visibly far away. The next, she could see nothing.

Fianna paused, suddenly fearful. Her breathing increased as she tried to make out anything in front of her, a sea of black in her eyes. With a roar, Drogon released yet another flood of flames onto his victims, and that was when she noticed with a small scream he was right in front of her.

The scrape of a sword met her ears as he whipped out a blade from behind him made entirely of ice, swinging it down towards her. Fianna whipped Wolfsbane up, meeting his strike head on with a ringing clang.

They stayed like that for a moment, the swords starting to shake from the pressure both King and Queen were exuding onto it. Eventually, Fianna was the one to break when her arms were screaming at her to stop, her foot lifting up and belting him in the chest. The impact was minimal, having him only stumble back a step or two. But it allowed her the chance to re-attack.

With her eyes still burning from smoke and her hair half-fallen from the braid she had previously intwined it in, Fianna rushed forward again with a battle cry, of sorts.

The Night King, ever cool and collected, met every swing she struck with ease, not at all phased by her quick and sharp sweeps, while Fianna was beginning to tire. One on one combat wasn't going to be enough, she recognised, he was simply too strong. Letting out a grunt of frustration, she reached for the whiskey bottle attached to her hip.

It wasn't lit, but she hoped the glass itself would at least stun him enough to give her an opportunity. As she smashed the bottle against his face, shards of it dropping onto the ground with tinkles. He didn't bleed like normal men would, there was a new set to his jaw and a narrowing of his eyes.

The Night King didn't have to speak for Fianna to know he was royally pissed off, but he also made no move to fight back again. She should have taken this as a warning symbol, but realisation only sunk in as a two pairs of icy, cold hands gripped her arms from behind, hauling her backward and restraining her from fighting back.

Fianna struggled viciously in their tight grip, her legs flinging out in an attempt to kick them. But all efforts proved futile as they dragged her backward, leaving her to simply watch as the King slowly walked off to return to his main mission, a crowd of white walkers following dutifully behind.

Her face reddened from struggling, but their grip didn't loosen. Two hands on each arm suddenly became one on each bicep, as the second walker let go to round around and face her. She kicked and howled as he watched silently, his hand slipping to a holding on his hip and unveiling an ice sword as long as her own.

Flinging her head back in an attempt to head butt her captor, Fianna merely hurt herself in the process as she collided with what felt like a brick of ice. The one she could see inched forward cooly, looking down at the struggling Queen as he lifted up his sword into the air.

Just as Grey Wind has stopped Tiernan from ripping her throat out, an unexpected saviour had appeared with a wave of blue fire instead of a mouth full of teeth.

" _Viserion_ ," Fianna whispered in shock, watching as the wight dragon completely turned against his own interests and laid waste to the white walker who was preparing to kill her. She felt the grip on her arms loosening in surprise, and used it as an opportunity to rip the dragonglass dagger from her hip, flip it in her hand, and stab the being behind her in the stomach.

The white walker smashed into ice immediately, and if her information was correct, so did every wight he had previously turned. Fianna hesitantly returned to look at Viserion. The dragon certainly looked worse for wear, a tear in its wings and a gash in his throat so deep she could see the blue fire slipping through.

Viserion was merely a puppet of the Night King's now. Why he turned against his own interests to save his former rider, she could never guess. Hoping that some sliver of their bond still remained, Fianna took a tentative step toward him, hand held high in an attempt to pet his snout. Viserion opened his mouth widely, causing her to jump with the tension, but instead of setting her alight he let out an ear vibrating screech that had her cupping her hands over her head.

Before she could find out how far his loyalties extended, he took off again, rigidly attempting to fly with what was clearly a wing damaged beyond repair. She stayed for a moment, hoping he would circle back to her, but he soon disappeared within the cloud cover again.

A sprinting figure ran past her then, Fianna barely catching a glimpse of his face to see that it was Jon hurtling toward Winterfell. Panicked that he was running from another enemy, Fianna turned to see if he was being followed. But any wights that had set their sights on Jon before, completely shifted their attention to a new target - Daenerys.

From a distance, Fianna could see Drogon on the ground, strangely twitching in a manner she had never seen him do before. As she neared closer, she saw a bright blonde head of hair tumbling from on top of him onto the snow beneath. Starting to sprint as well as she could, Fianna limped toward the fellow Queen as Drogon soared overhead, abandoning her in an attempt to rid himself of what she could now see - wights that had latched onto him like fleas.

Terrified, Daenerys scrambled around on the ground, looking around with horror at the wights that began to encircle her. Fianna managed to just make it in time for one to lunge at Daenerys, stopping him by piercing her longsword through his chest.

The Targaryen gasped in shock at the sight of Fianna, her eyes drawn to the deep bite wound on her chin. Her niece stuck her hand out in assistance, which she immediately clasped onto and allowed herself to be dragged to her feet.

"Get up, Dany!" Fianna commanded, "you look like a mother in a whorehouse!"

"Why are you helping me?" She asked shakily, paranoid that the Bua woman was about to sacrifice her to the undead. Fianna swallowed thickly, swiping down a wight that came at her. She never answered Daenerys question, thankfully never having to as another joined their little defensive squad.

"My queen!" Jorah called, rushing gallantly to her side. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine!" Daenerys grunted, reaching down and grabbing onto a stray sword as her two companions defended their position relentlessly. With Fianna covering the West, and Jorah covering the East, Daenerys was left to stab anyone that had tried to sneak up on the two.

She had heard many stories of Fianna Bua prior to meeting her, but she never thought she'd be keeping up with Jorah's level of sword fighting. Distracted by a wight that had slipped past Fianna's blade, Daenerys stepped forward and gutted the wight before he could kill either of them, doing her best to be of _some use_.

The temporary distraction proved to be one of the biggest mistakes of her life when she heard a grunt from the man behind her. Whirling around, the blonde cried out and hit an attacker that was currently holding onto a sword that was buried into Jorah's gut.

The Mormont stumbled after it was removed from him, his legs shaky from the pain of his wound but he still stood tall, ready to defend his queen.

"I don't suppose you've got some kind of horn for that dragon?" Fianna shouted, unaware of the scene occurring behind her. Judging by the size of the army heading straight for their little trio, she could hazard a guess this would prove to be the one fight Fianna Stark couldn't triumph.

"N-" Daenerys began to answer, until a genuine sound of a horn rang through the field and cut her off. Confusedly, she looked around for its source.

"I wasn't serious, you actually do?" Fianna's eyes widened, dragging her stare away from incoming opponents to glance at Daenerys.

But it wasn't her doing at all, she found. Rather, the stampede of hooves that clattered across the field, emerging from the tree line.

The group of three redirected their attention to a strange army that had suddenly cascaded into Winterfell's surrounding area, completely overwhelming the wights that had been resurrected and gaining ground within seconds.

"Is it Cersei?" Daenerys whispered in shock, her heart swelling with relief at the reinforcements. Perhaps today wouldn't be her last, after all.

"No," Fianna grinned, eyes honing in on the banner carried high above everyone's head by one rider, that of a white fish on a red and blue background. "It's not Cersei at all."

* * *

 _Sansa_

The eldest Stark girl had to physically clamp her hand over Eddie's mouth to stop his cries from being heard, as they descended into the tunnel even further underground than the crypts. There was a dank, musty smell within it, and the faint sound of dripping water nearby. How Rickon came to hear of such an escape route, she'd never understand. Then again, he spent an awful lot of time playing in the crypts from such a young age.

Sansa never did, she found the place to be rather creepy and disconcerting. Given recent events, she didn't think she'd ever re-enter them again.

"You're a genius, Rickon," Tyrion whispered, himself and the Stark boy being the last to step down onto the stone stairs. The dwarf turned in confusion when his companion suddenly stopped on the top step, slightly jittery.

"Come on, what are you doing?" He hissed as quietly as possible, Shaggydog stopping alongside his master.

"Someone has to push the statue back over the tunnel," he revealed, eliciting a furious response from his sister.

"Get into the tunnel this _instant_ , Rickon," she whisper-shouted, pointing at the scared women and children behind her. "They're not going to follow after us, you're not killing yourself for nothing."

"They are going to," he refuted, always the stubborn one, "they're going to keep searching for us and I have to keep everyone safe."

"Listen to your sister, boy," Tyrion warned, "you're a Prince of Winterfell, don't sacrifice yourself for us."

"If I don't, then who will?" Rickon fired back. "I don't fancy relying on your strength to push a whole statue, imp. I'm the only one here who can push it back. Besides, I've got Shaggydog and a sword. A bag of bones won't stop me."

" _Please_ , Rickon!" Sansa begged, her voice thick from the tears building up. "Please just get into the tunnel!"

"Sorry, sister," he responded with a brave, yet somewhat downtrodden voice. For a boy as young as he, he was more valiant than men twice or even thrice his age. "Tell everyone that I love them."

"Tyrion, stop him please!" Sansa began to sob when her brother disappeared from sight, darting around the sides of the statue where he would be surely visible to the wights hungrily searching for them.

"Keep them off me, Shaggydog!" She heard him command, followed by a scraping of stone against the ground as the hole above slowly began to close up. Their only light source now, was a torch Tyrion had swiped before he ventured down. The only _sound_ they could hear now, was Sansa's muffled sobs.

* * *

 _Robb_

"Robb!" The King turned to see who was calling upon him. Miraculously, his blade was still as lit with fire as ever. Although he was still weary holding it.

Jon had now emerged through one of Winterfell's many passages, panting heavily and gesturing wildly for the King to follow after him.

"Bran!" Was all he said, and it was enough for Robb to finish off the three wights he had been waiting for to approach, one by one. Rushing towards his half-brother, Robb and Jon barrelled through the horde towards the direction of the Godswood.

But alas, things would never be that easy for the Starks. With a thunderous screech and a glistening blue flame that managed to woefully damage the walls of Winterfell, Robb and Jon ducked behind a fallen wagon.

"Viserion!" Jon shouted over the sound of the dragon's roars.

"Really?" Robb bit sarcastically, "I thought it was an overgrown fucking crow!"

Giving each other a nod, the brothers began to run again towards the Godswood, but were forced into a nearby hallway by another spell of blue fire.

Out of frustration for being so close yet so far, Jon roared in fury, punching his fist against the brick wall behind him.

"We're never gonna get past it," Jon angrily commented, watching as the dragon devoured anyone that tried to pass by it noticeably. Looking around for solutions to their final obstacle, Robb spotted a wooden staircase nearby that would take him to the top of the wall, where the archers were usually stationed.

It was meant to spot threats coming to the castles, but now it would be used to stop the threat _inside._

"I've got an idea, distract him!" Robb demanded, flying off the wall he had been flat pressed against and taking the stairs two at a time.

"Distract the enemy's pet dragon," Jon scoffed with a shake of his head, leaning off the wall and darting towards the same wagon as before. He had been successful in garnering its attention anyway.

Meanwhile upstairs, Robb ran along the wooden platform that had miraculously survived the war thus far, praying and hoping that Viserion wouldn't randomly look up and see his figure sprinting past. He needed to take the dragon by surprise, and from behind. To get behind Viserion, he had to go above.

The flame of his sword burned on without wavering. Robb inspected it carefully while he cowered behind a wooden crate, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. How the strange Red Woman lit up his sword, he didn't know. But it suddenly began to dawn on him what her cryptic words had meant.

Robb always thought that she meant he should kill the Night King, but the eldest Stark had never been the one intended for that task. She told him specifically - "go for the big one."

The King returned his attention to the events happening beneath, as Jon attempted to skirt past Viserion unnoticed but ended up having to dive for safety to avoid being burned. Taking a deep breath, Robb stood up. It was now or never, and he wasn't about to lose a brother.

Thinking he lost Bran and Rickon all those years ago had been painful enough, and he wasn't this close to saving one now as he was then. Jon suddenly reeled out from his cover, face contorted with rage as he let out a shout of anger at the dragon. Robb refrained from rolling his eyes, as it was only proving beneficial to him anyway to keep the dragon distracted.

As Viserion opened its damaged mouth to unleash upon Jon, Robb had already been running up to the edge from a distance back to gain momentum. Propelling his body forward, and pushing aside his minor fear of heights, Robb landed directly on the back of Viserion, who jolted in surprise.

The wight dragon began to shake violently to fling him off, but Robb had a firm grip with one hand on his spikes. And an even firmer grip on the handle of his fiery blade, which he promptly plunged into Viserion's side until his scaly skin reached the hilt.

Letting out an identical roar to the one he heard above the Wall, Viserion crumpled lifelessly for the second time, flinging Robb onto the ground below. Thankfully, it wasn't much of a drop to harm him.

Wasting no time to check his brother's state once he saw Robb's head lift up, Jon turned and dashed toward the Godswood again.

Little did he know, someone else had gotten there first.

* * *

 ** _My hands are cramping so bad it's not even funny. I've never been more glad to finish a chapter. That was so LONG._** ** _12,000 words. I honestly didn't think I had it in me._**

 ** _This chapter also deviated from the main episode for the few reasons - the Tullys are in this story and not the canon, and there's no way Jorah and Fianna are holding off a whole army themselves. Rickon saved everyone in the crypts because honestly all the people who died in the crypts were offscreen and nobody we knew which is just not realistic. I had originally intended for Fianna to kill Viserion and Robb save Daenerys, but it just made more sense in the end I think to swap. I also really wanted Fianna to ride Viserion again, so I did soooo much research on ice dragons and white walkers that I finally accepted by the end that Viserion isn't an ice dragon. The writers also confirmed he doesn't breathe ice, but a strange coloured fire if anyone was wondering. If he was an ice dragon, her First Men heritage could have let her be a rider again, but Viserion is dead dead. I know he's technically a wight in the show, but in this book he's a white walker and able to retain some memories, just like that one that knew his way back to Castle Black a few seasons ago._**

 ** _So now I wanna know from you guys two things:_**

 ** _a) was this chapter alright? I'm not sure if I'm entirely happy with it, but the script was fairly... you know, to begin with. So I'd love to hear opinions but if people are going to be insulting or harsh I'm gonna ignore that. I receive negative comments sometimes and I'm always open to critiques but some people just genuinely want to put me down or make me feel like shit and i'm done with it. I put my heart and soul into writing this book and I'm not letting anyone act like I don't any more.  
_**

 ** _b) would anybody mind if I deviate from the main story from here on? honestly I love the show but I'm not down with episode 4 and the direction I can see this show is foreshadowing. I just can tell what's going to end up happening, and it's not good writing in my personal opinion. I can't hate Daenerys right now as the 'Mad Queen' when I pity her so much for all she's lost this season. There's just so many plot holes and baseless storylines that I myself don't like. I said from the start the ending of the show would be different to this book, but I guess now I'm asking is everyone_** **okay** ** _with me changing the last three episodes as well?_**

 ** _Thanks so much for reading, I'm going to rest my hands for life hahaha x_**

 ** _Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - Here's 12,000 words for ya ; )_**

 ** _Guest - Fianna and Robb had been through too much for me to kill them in this episode. I won't say what happens by the end of the the book, but not here anyway!_**

 ** _wamakima5004 - I actually didn't mind Arya killing the Night King. Fianna couldn't do it, she's too brash and uncontrolled in her fighting skills. So is Jon and Robb. The only one who could have killed him is Arya because she's sneaky and quiet._**

 ** _florabest - Robb and Fianna are too savage to be killed by a bunch of dead people_**

 ** _Arianna La Fay - I did SOOOOO much research trying to find a way that would explain that he could be turned back, but in the end I found he isn't even an ice dragon I wanted her to ride Viserion again so bad! So I settled for him holding a little bit of his rider in his memory enough to protect her x_**

 ** _wyanmai - Thank YOU for reading this far! I really appreciate your comments and I'm so so happy to hear you like the book! I hope I did the episode justice in this chapter and you like what's to come as well! x_**

 ** _Lauren - I was expecting more death as well! Probably a good thing because Avengers killed me too I was having an emotional week hahaha x_**

 ** _sltsky96 - not gonna lie I did tear up writing Tiernan's death scene, he was one of my favourite characters to write because he was so fun and supportive and now he's just GONE ; _ ;_**


	61. (LX) The Undefeated

_**SONG:**_ _Nightshade by The Lumineers_

 _Robb_

It happened rather suddenly. Within seconds of Jon disappearing through the passage that led to the Godswood, there was cries of relief from all the living soldiers. It wasn't immediately obvious what had happened, but a quick look around showed him that there were no wights left to fight. Blank spaces in the area they had previously been.

There was a collective surge of relief, as if a weight had been lifted off of Winterfell. Soldiers that had been fighting until their last breath slumped down with exhaustion, others passed out entirely from their wounds. It soon became rather obvious what had happened - either a mass amount of white walkers had been killed or the Night King himself. Either way, Robb allowed himself to breathe for what felt like the first time in hours.

If he wasn't mistaken, he could even see the smallest sliver of sunlight beginning to shine across the land. Dawn had arrived, at last.

Slumping against the wall, he closed his eyes for a brief moment with exhaustion, taking slow and even breaths as the adrenaline began to wear off and the aches and pains began to settle in.

"You heard of anyone important dying?" A man's voice was heard, Robb opening his eyes with interest. He saw two Northern soldiers, one tying a tourniquet tight around the others leg that was bleeding rather dangerously.

"Lady Mormont I heard, even heard she took a giant down with her but I can't tell if they're telling tales or not," the man caring to the wounded's leg replied. "The Dothraki are obliterated, I'd hope the dragon queen has the rest in storage somewhere because she's fucked if she hasn't."

"I-I heard the Bua one died atop the wall," he hissed in pain, eyeing his leg wearily.

At this, a shiver of fear ran rampant through his body, enough to nearly catapult him off the wall and storm towards the duo, eyes blazing.

"What Bua died atop the wall?" He demanded, his tone and appearance causing the two to jump in fright. Once they realised who was talking to them, they bowed their head in shame.

"I-I'm not sure, your grace!" He stammered, fearful of Robb's murderous expression. "I pray it wasn't our Queen, but I truly can't say!"

" _Robb_!" A voice shouted, its familiar tones prompting him to turn around abruptly. She was there. Of course she was there, nothing could ever taken down his wife.

"Fianna," he sighed in relief, making a beeline for her. His eyes scanned her appearance before they reached each other - she had been in the throes of war to be sure, with a deep bite wound on her chin that would no doubt scar. Robb didn't much care - seeing her after thinking she was hurt was still the most beautiful sight he could have asked for.

The second his arms wrapped around her, she slumped forward, the sudden weight of her armour causing him to drop to his knees, holding her tightly to him. Her sobs followed immediately afterward, worrying him greatly.

"What is it?" He begged, his hand cupping around the back of her head as she cried against his breastplate. Dragging herself back to look at him, she looked like a broken woman, covered in ash and blood.

"Tiernan didnt-... he didn't-" she broke down crying again before finishing, but she didn't need to complete her sentence for Robb to understand. Closing his eyes with sadness, he allowed her to collapse onto him again, stroking her hair as he opened his eyes and stared upward. Tears threatened to spring as he listened to the heartbroken cries of his wife. He could only hope that Tiernan's death wasn't the only one that would directly affect the two.

"Robb! Fianna!" Bonifer's call disrupted their moment, the older man making his way towards the couple, oblivious to the news she had just shared with her husband. "They're saying something happened in the crypts."

As if sparked, Fianna shot around with a look of horror on her face, all previous agony falling as she thought of the trauma she would endure if her babies had been harmed too. Robb was sure his heart fell in his chest, scrambling upward and dragging Fianna to stand as well. Together, they raced past Bonifer towards the entry to the crypts. The remaining survivors had the same idea, a large crowd blocking the doorway and the stairs. But as soon as they saw their King and Queen, they separated to clear a path.

Once they reached the open door, they had to push through another group of onlookers who were all staring forward at something.

"Move!" Robb commanded, carelessly shoving soldiers aside to get inside, hand gripped tightly onto Fianna's. The first thing he noticed was that the crypts was entirely empty - except for one single person.

Rickon's curly hair was easily distinguishable even in the dimmed lighting and short distance. Desperate for an answer to everyone's disappearance, and to ensure his brother was okay, Robb raced toward him. Fianna followed suit, but lagged behind when her foot stepped on something with a loud crunch.

Looking down in confusion, she froze at the sight of her boot lodged into a stray skull laying on the grounds of the crypts. The second she noticed it, was when she _noticed._

Several skeletons were littering the ground around her, having decomposed for quite a while before tonight. Stray bricks accompanied them, having been smashed from the graves of the predeceasing Starks. Fianna cupped her hands over her mouth in horror as realisation had settled in. They had sent Winterfell's most vulnerable demographics to the Crypts - an underground tunnel where dozens of deceased bodies were entombed.

She had potentially sent her own children to their deaths.

"Rickon?" Robb asked tentatively, slowing as he reached the boy who was hunched on the ground over a dark mass. Once called upon, the youngest Stark sniffed and brought his gaze up to meet his brother's, red and teary-eyed.

"I-... I saved everyone," he explained, gaze redirecting to the direwolf beneath him. "But there was so many... Shaggydog didn't let them touch me..."

"Oh, Rickon..." Robb whispered pitifully, crouching down beside the teenager and wrapping a comforting arm around him. He purposefully kept his eyes away from the direwolf, not wanting to see the carnage the wights would have done. If it had been Grey Wind, Robb would feel equally as distraught.

"Where are they?" Fianna questioned, her low voice echoing around the walls. The brothers looked up to see her distraught expression. Rickon was startled by the sight, never having seen his good-sister so _fragile_.

"They went into the tunnel, under Rickard's statue," Rickon announced, starting a chain reaction from the bystanders, Fianna and Robb himself. They all surged toward the statue, pushing it with ease backward until a gaping hole appeared beneath it.

Gripping a torch from the wall, Robb ventured first inside, letting out a shout that vibrated down the tunnel. Hopefully they would hear, and hurry back before reaching Wintertown.

After a few minutes of shouts and walking forward, a small fire was seen in the distance, quickly coming closer until Fianna could just about make out a mass of people.

Running forward, too determined to care for the increasingly painful ache in her foot, she was able to distinguish faces eventually. Sansa was the first she saw, and thus, the first she ran toward.

Robb had been right on her heels the entire time, wrapping his arms around his sister in a hug she quickly reciprocated in relief.

"Thank the gods you're all alright," Sansa breathed, eyes scanning the faces she could recognise in the approaching crowd. Robb and Fianna fell to their knees as the twins launched themselves at them both, immediately being met with kisses and tight hugs from their parents.

"Everyone is alright, aren't they?" Sansa pressed, eyes flicking around curiously when she couldn't yet see Tiernan. She met Fianna's eyes then, as the mother rested her chin on Aifric's shoulder.

A single glance from the Queen, who's eyes were red raw underneath, told Sansa no - everyone was most definitely not alright.

* * *

 _Sansa_

Fianna Stark didn't think she could cry any more by the time the funeral began. Never had she attended such an event where hundreds were being honoured, not just a single person.

The air was heavy with sorrow, the deaths from the previous night clearly having affected everyone there. They took their time in circling the pyres, giving one last goodbye to their loved ones. Fianna had been simply staring at Tiernan's corpse the entire time, unable to force her feet to move away. Meanwhile, Robb and Sansa were mourning another man they didn't expect to ever feel sorrow about.

"One time he and I snuck out to Wintertown for my nameday," Robb spoke suddenly, voice understandably hoarse. "We snuck into a tavern, wanting to try ale for the first time. Our father caught us after the barkeep told on us, and Theon convinced father that it was his fault, even though I suggested it. He took the punishment, while I stayed back like a coward."

Sansa's stony expression finally broke at his words, leaning against him for support.

"It's not the same as risking his life to save you, or giving his life to save Bran. And he didn't have our name," Robb spoke quietly, tears pooling in his eyes as his sister sobbed against his shoulder, "he didn't have our blood. But he was just as much of a Stark as me and you."

A thought sprang to mind after Robb's comment, urging Sansa to reach into her dress for the Stark pin she proudly wore as a badge of honour. She stared at it for a second, eyes meeting Robb's before moving further. He gave a small nod of approval, so she crouched down and slid it onto Theon's chest.

She couldn't bear the sight any longer, and deciding Robb needed a moment to say goodbye, she turned to the next pyre over. For her most painful goodbye yet.

Fianna looked like a ghost when she approached, the deep gash on her jawline being the most colourful thing about her complexion. Comfortingly, Sansa reached out and placed her hand on Fianna's forearm, giving it a light squeeze.

Snapping out of her daze, the Queen looked up to meet her waiting stare, smiling slightly in gratitude. Unable to face him again, Fianna gaze Sansa the lightest shoulder squeeze before venturing off towards the crowd, where Arya waited with both twins in either hand. She found them to be a massive source of comfort in the hours since the battle, but her eyes constantly honed in on slight similarities she saw between Eddie and Tiernan.

"It's not fair," Sansa swallowed, eyes fixated on the grey complexion of the man with the reddish hair and once rosy cheeks. "My whole life I thought I knew what I wanted - a valiant Prince on a steed to whisk me away from Winterfell and make me a Princess. After Joffrey and Ramsay, I thought I never wanted another man to even look at me again. And now, all I want is you. And you've been taken away from me."

Closing her eyes and taking shaky breaths to calm herself before she burst into sobs once more, Sansa leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to his cold forehead.

"You deserved better, Tiernan," she whispered against the skin, dragging herself away from the accumulation of wooden sticks before she broke down completely.

* * *

 _Fianna_

"That's your third cup in an hour," Robb's voice murmured against the shell of her ear, amusement and underlying concern in his voice. Fianna simply shrugged and smiled tiredly back at him.

"I think I've earned it," she commented, pointedly lifting the cup to her lips again while maintaining eye contact with him.

They were seated at the top table as usual, while the rest of Winterfell tried to celebrate as best as they could. Which meant barrels of ale was being consumed in an attempt to ignore the loss they suffered.

"Thank the Gods the ale wasn't flammable or else you'd have chucked that over the wall too," Robb snickered, leaning back in his chair with one hand wrapping around a cup of his own and the other resting comfortably on her thigh.

"Keep that attitude up and _you'll_ be going over the wall next," Fianna fired back, shooting him a cheeky wink along with it which he scoffed dramatically at.

"I'd have your head for treason!"

"From where? Beyond the grave?"

"And lest we forget the Queen herself!" Tormund's bellow interrupted their banter, both Daenerys and Fianna's heads snapping up to see the wildling bounding towards the latter of the two.

"Oh- we're doing this?" Fianna asked uncomfortably as he all but dragged her from her chair while Robb merely laughed at the sight. Tormund swept his arms under her back and legs, eliciting a squeal of shock as he shakily hauled her off her feet and showcased her to the room like a prize.

"How many men _or_ women have held their own in a sword fight with the undead bastard himself?" His announcement was met with a flurry of cheers as he settled her back onto her feet. Cheeks burning red from embarrassment, Fianna smacked his bicep - but he barely noticed.

"I haven't forgotten you either, little King!" He shouted, wrapping his arm around Robb's neck and rubbing his scalp with his knuckles. "The only man alive to slay a dragon!"

This time, Fianna was the one to laugh as Robb uncomfortably squirmed in the wildling's grip, letting out a long exhale when he was finally released. Tormund had turned his attention toward Jon, his new man of the minute, as he proudly toasted to 'his little crow'.

Robb excused himself to 'piss', his vulgarity prompting Fianna to roll her eyes but smirk in amusement nonetheless. The only ones now seated at the table were Fianna, Daenerys and Varys.

The Queen of the North was beginning to tune out Tormund's overly loud comments, until she heard the word 'dragon' drop once or twice.

"What kind of mad bastard hops on a dragon?!" He roared in amazement, pushing Fianna to cast a side glance toward Daenerys. The Targaryen was pointedly staring at the table in front of her, looking somewhat saddened as she was left out of the applause and congratulations. Fianna imagined the dragon comment had to have cut deep as well.

Sliding over to sit in Robb's chair and be closer to her, Fianna tried her hardest to give her aunt a warm smile when they met eyes.

"I think Tormund has forgotten who gave Jon that dragon to ride," Fianna hummed, hoping it would break the tension.

"I guess all our children leave us eventually to find new love," Daenerys joked, laughing awkwardly thereafter as her eyes glanced back and forth between the table and Fianna. "I just... I wanted to thank you," she suddenly said, turning sideways to face her head on. "You saved my life."

"Don't mention-"

"No," Daenerys cut her off, a pleading smile on her lips, "I will mention it. I know that you and I haven't saw eye to eye, and a lot of your problems would have been solved if you had just left me on that field. But you came, dud leg and all, to help me. I don't know why, but I thank you for it."

"It's me that should be thanking you," Fianna spoke after a moment of silence, any amusement falling from her expression. "You could have turned around the second you heard Robb became King again, and you didn't. You brought your armies North, and suffered greatly for it. I'm just sorry that I haven't thanked you before now."

A tension seemed to have lifted in Daenerys, now feeling more comfortable around her niece and even feeling somewhat better after her words of gratitude. Perhaps hope wasn't lost altogether for the relationship she had always wanted to build between them.

"I'd imagine how you feel about me claiming the North is a lot alike with how _I_ feel about _you_ claiming it," Daenerys admitted, her hand cupping over Fianna's clasped ones.

"Yes," Fianna sighed, darting her eyes away for a second to recollect herself. "Well, it was rather ambitious of you to add yet another title to your long list. 'Breaker of Chains', 'Mother of Dragons', 'Wants the Seven Kingdoms'."

Daenerys threw her head back and laughed, the tense atmosphere between them lifting right before Varys' watchful eye. He watched the two talk with each other, listening intently on what was being said and analysing his Queen's inclination for her niece.

"You forgot 'The Unburnt', 'First of Her Name', 'Protector of the Realm', 'Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea," Daenerys continued for her, listing off titles she genuinely had, but it amused the two of them none the less. It was only when their laughter began to die down that she spoke again. "You know I've heard you've gained a newfound title of your own, heard it being spoken by some of the Northerners."

"What's that?" Fianna furrowed her brows in confusion, expecting a joke to follow.

"The Undefeated," she revealed, without a hint of amusement. If anything, there was a hint of admiration in Daenerys' eyes. "This is your seventh battle, and not once have you been on the losing side."

Fianna remained silent, mulling over the comment. Had it truly been seven battles? In truth, it felt like much more since the beginning of the War of the Five Kings.

From the Battle of Oxcross and Whispering Wood, to the Siege of Baelfort, destruction of the Dreadfort, the White Wedding, the Battle of the Bastards and now the Long Night - perhaps she truly had earned the new title bestowed upon her.

"Are you too good to sit amongst us commoners now?" A very familiar voice called out from a figure that had approached the table, capturing Fianna's attention as she let out a wide grin of recognition.

"You're hardly a commoner, you're a Lord now," she beamed in response, nodding to Daenerys to excuse herself as she rounded around table so she could embrace the ageing man.

The Targaryen queen smiled politely in return, eyes fixated on Fianna as she hugged an unfamiliar man, who bore the sigil of a fish on his breastplate. A Tully - if she remembered correctly. Daenerys watched the two interact, mildly surprised by the camaraderie between them. She had never seen someone interact so casually with a King or Queen until she ventured North.

Unbeknownst to her, Varys was also carefully watching, except his eyes were on the blonde. He didn't miss how she visibly deflated when Tormund praised Jon for riding Rhaegal, and how much more relaxed she became when Fianna spoke with her. His Queen definitely held a soft spot for her niece, and while it may prove to calm Daenerys wildest urges - a bond between them would also be dangerous.

At the end of the day, Daenerys would return to take over King's Landing and rule the Seven Kingdoms. Fianna Bua would never allow the North or the Riverlands to fall under her rule.

"You look horrific," Brynden commented, nodding his head towards her marked jaw.

"Oi!" Fianna smacked her hand playfully against his chest, letting out a laugh all the same. "And you look about a sneeze from death, old man."

"Not too old to be called upon for help though, eh?" He raised his eyebrows teasingly, wrapping his arm around her back to lead her towards the table he was seated at. Robb reentered at that moment, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Fianna moving to sit at quite possibly the most diverse table in Westeros. Shaking his head with amusement, he slid onto the bench at the edge, seating himself next to Fianna.

Ser Brienne, Jaime, Tyrion and a squire he believed to be called Podrick were all hunched together alongside them, clutching cups of wine and seemingly playing a game.

"King in the North!" Tyrion drunkenly cheered, holding his cup in the air in greeting. "Join in our game!"

After explaining the rules to the two newcomers, all eyes turned to Fianna as she was picked to be quizzed first. Truth be told, the Queen was fairly buzzed already. This would only send her over the edge.

"Alright," Tyrion narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer over the table with a devilish smirk. "You hated my father."

"Oh come on," she rolled her eyes, lifting the cup to her lips, "my children could have guessed that, and they've only just learned how to wipe their arse."

"Fine then," he held his hands up in surrender, narrowing his eyes again as he tried to get a read on her. "You never kissed anyone in the years you thought Robb to be dead."

"By the Gods," Robb shook his head, making eye contact with Fianna as she tried to shrink back into the seat. "I don't want to hear this again."

"You're _technically_ wrong," she grimaced, "but I maintain that I had no other choice!"

"No other choice?" Brienne interrupted, a wide grin of amusement on her face that Fianna had never seen from the usually stoic woman.

"She kissed Arya!" Robb blurted, spurred on by the alcohol he had already taken before sitting down.

" _What_?!" Everyone at the table asked unanimously, equal looks of shock and amazement worn on their faces.

"It wasn't _exactly_ Arya!" She groaned, "it's a long story!"

"Alright, alright," Tyrion waved when the excitement began to die down, "who would have thought we'd all be sitting around this table now? All of us have been on opposing sides at one point or another."

"I'll never forget the day," Robb sighed wistfully, holding back a laugh. "The sky was blue, the birds were singing - and we captured the Kingslayer."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jaime rolled his eyes, although his own lips twitched in amusement too. "You got lucky."

"I like to think it was divine intervention that left you sitting in a cage in your own shit for weeks on end," Fianna added, taking another sip from her cup.

"An act of cruelty, if you ask me!" Jaime teased in return, their conversation surprisingly light hearted.

"No one asked you," Robb threw in, the table erupting into laughs at the Kingslayer's behalf.

* * *

 _Robb_

"Okay, your grace," Robb smirked with amusement as he watched his wife begin to sway from side to side. Her eyes fluttered tiredly, and her words were beginning to make less and less sense. "How about we get you to bed?"

"How about _no_?" She giggled childishly, pushing her finger against his shoulder. Robb was thoroughly enjoying drunk Fianna thus far, never having seen her in such a state before. He supposed women like Fianna rarely got the _chance_ to let go.

"How about yes?" He raised his eyebrows, sliding out of the bench. The hall had begun to empty out already, with only the most dedicated drinkers remaining. Robb held his hand out to Fianna to assist her out of the table.

"Pfft," she scoffed, pushing his hand away, "I don't need no man to help me out. I'm a bloody _Queen_!"

"Alright, then," Robb smirked, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest as he watched her desperately struggling to lift her legs out and around. Her attempts ended with Fianna falling over altogether when she finally lifted her legs over the bench seat, landing on her bottom on the ground.

Robb let out a bellow of laughter before he moved to help her, body shaking with his chuckles as he tried to help her to her feet. He'd have carried her over his shoulder if he wasn't fairly tipsy himself.

Locking their elbows tightly together for Fianna to use him for support to walk coherently, they began the short walk back to their chambers. Once they reached the final hallway, Fianna leaned against the door and stumbled inside, giggling all the while.

"Come hither, King in the North," she pointed at him, walking backward towards the bed and adopting a sultry expression.

"If you think I'm bedding you in that state, you're badly mistaken Fianna Stark," he shook his head with amusement, tugging on the strings of his breeches. Fianna flopped back onto the bed, her grin visibly dimming.

"Is it because of my bite mark?" She dropped her voice to a whisper, barely heard to his own ears.

"What?" He reeled, walking towards the bed once dressed for bed and sitting next to where she lay. "Why would you even think that?"

"I've never heard of a Queen in the North as scarred as I am," Fianna frowned, appearing upset seemingly out of nowhere as she stared at the ceiling above. "With my leg, the scar on my stomach where the arrow hit me before and now the mark on my jaw... you could have found a woman who wasn't a fighter and would stay pretty forever."

"If I had chosen a woman for her looks, which is irrelevant anyway because you're one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever seen, I'd be dead by now," he kept his eyes fixated on her, not at all affected by the blemishes she pointed out. Fianna sat up in bed, her previous state of alcoholism seeming to dissipate somewhat. She met his gaze head on, full of curiosity.

"You must think little of me if you think that matters," he hummed, cupping his hand around her cheek.

"I'm well aware of how this world works," she shrugged, leaning further into his touch. They stayed silent for a moment until Robb pressed a tender kiss against her lips, silencing any and all of her worries. When he pulled away, she was smiling again.

But it faded once more. There was one worry that Robb simply couldn't quell, not until he knew about it.

"Robb," she began, after he had gestured for her to stand so he could unlace her dress, "there's something you should know."

"What's that?" He pressed, expecting it to be another drunken comment of hers as he carefully undid the binds of her dress. Fianna reached her hand behind her back to stop him, clasping onto his fingers before slowly turning around. There was a troubled expression on her face again, and an undertone of guilt.

They had promised to tell each other everything after she had withheld her grandmother's identity from him. She wasn't going to let it happen again and affect her marriage.

"It's about Jon," she sighed, taking his other hand in her free one and daring to meet his gaze. "And I don't know if you're going to like it."

* * *

 _ **And thus, the process of rewriting episode 4-6 has begun. Starting with not rushing this part because a lot of people died and I'm not just skipping to King's Landing. Build up and all that jazz.**_

 _ **So... episode 5. That was... Yikes.**_

 _ **Cleo9427 - I'm 100% deviating at this point. I knew by the way episode 4 went that episode 5 would be terrible and now I'm expecting the same for 6. I expect Jon will kill Dany as well, but it would have been so much better if they built up her "madness" more**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - more you shall have!**_

 _ **anshumangupta - I was thinking people would be like ehhhhh about the Viserion scene but I wanted them to have some kind of moment! And thank you! I thought Arya killing him was an iconic moment I wasn't going to take it out**_

 _ **sltsky96 - legitimately teared up writing his death**_

 _ **wamakima5004 - Thank you so so much! x**_

 _ **Shannan - Writing that shit hurt I won't lie, thank you so much! x**_

 _ **LeeForShort - Ahhh thank you so so much! Have a lovely day x**_

 _ **You Write or You Read - It blows my mind when people binge this book so quickly there's so much in it by now, thank you so much that means the world to me!**_

 _ **klandgraf2007 - Someone had to die unfortunately : ( but thank you so much! I was actually expecting a lot more death in the actual show**_

 _ **Lauren - Thanks! I'm definitely diverting at this point. I'll be taking minor plots from the show but anything major nah that's getting thrown out. Thank god for fanfiction am I right?**_

 _ **purple pygmy puff 16 - I always thought Dany would go mad queen too! It's not that that I have a problem with it's the build up or lack thereof. The writers thought they'd senselessly kill Missandei and Rhaegal to "push her over the edge" but their deaths were littered with plot holes and so stupid. I want to rewrite her descent into madness into making it somewhat believable!**_

 _ **REW4 - Episode 5 just had me shaking my head the entire time in disappointment. I was MAD mad.**_

 _ **florabest - I was rewatching Robb scenes yesterday and thought the same thing he really is the King the realm deserved! Thank you! x**_

 _ **zemblenity - Arya and Sansa for me at this point is the only character staying true to who they are, the rest are away to shit. Rest in peace Daenerys, Jon and Tyrion's character development.**_


	62. (LXI) Queen of the Six Kingdoms

_**SONG:**_ _We Want War by These New Puritans_

 _Jon_

"Jon?" Robb called out to his passing by brother, or more factually correct - his cousin. The man stopped in his step as he was called, turning to Robb in response. "Can we talk?"

"I was just looking for you, actually," Jon admitted, looking around for the rest of his family, "you, Sansa and Arya. I need to speak with you all, privately."

"I know, Jon," Robb admitted cryptically, his tone capturing the Targaryen heir off guard, who looked at him quizzically. "I _know_."

Jon read the expression on his face uneasily, shoulders slumping in defeat. He had hoped to be the one to tell Robb first.

"The single time Fianna Bua hasn't been able to keep a secret," he chuckled drily, awkwardly avoiding Robb's eyes. Their relationship had been strained as of late, and Jon guessed that a revelation such as this would only sever their bond completely. The only thing keeping Robb and Jon communicating at all was Robb being under the belief that they were brothers.

To say that Jon was surprised when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder was an understatement, eyes snapping to it and then following up to meet its owner. Robb wasn't looking at him with contempt or disgust, if anything, his stance was nothing but comforting and supportive. The very last thing Jon could have expected.

"This doesn't change anything," Robb cleared his throat, giving Jon's shoulder a light squeeze, "we were raised as brothers, and that's how I still see you now."

Jon stiffened at the wave of emotion that had came over him, sniffing lightly and staring straight forward. Ever since Sam had told him the truth, he had felt the weight of the world's worries on his shoulders - how Daenerys would react, how disastrous it would be if word got out. And although he'd never admit it outright, he deeply feared that Robb and his other siblings would shun him for not being Ned Stark's son.

"I just don't know what to do," Jon sighed, shaking his head and wishing that Bran had never found out about his true lineage. Being a bastard never seemed like more of a gift until now. "Daenerys is broken by the news, even begged me not to tell any of you. She's terrified I'll threaten her claim to the throne."

"I wasn't actually going to mention her," Robb tried to hold back a smirk of amusement, "didn't want to make it awkward by saying 'I know you're fucking your aunt'."

"Sometimes you're a pain in the arse, you know that Robb?" Jon breathed a laugh, his first genuine smile he gave that week.

"As for your _aunt_ ," he coughed, stopping to chuckle again before adopting a more serious demeanour, "I don't think you should worry. Our family can be trusted with this secret. I almost wish it was me. You could have used this to force her into giving us the North, you know that?"

"Blackmail?" Jon asked in disapproval, sneering at the word. "That's not very honourable for Ned Stark's son."

"Don't get me wrong, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her," Robb candidly admitted. "We owe her one _hell_ of a favour. But there's a difference between a favour and a whole kingdom, Jon."

"Kingdoms and titles don't mean much to me as long as I'm alive," Jon shrugged, grimacing at Robb's philosophy.

"Why do you think I usurped you, you useless bastard?" Robb laughed, clapping a hand on Jon's back and eliciting a bark from him as well. Together, they headed towards the Godswood, to tell the rest of their siblings the gossip of the day. Jon could only hope their reaction was as light-hearted as Robb's.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The Queen in the North, along with the King and the Stark sisters, had been summoned to Daenerys' council meeting. For what reason - she was unaware. Perhaps the Targaryen queen wanted to negotiate the North's independence.

Upon entering alongside Robb, Daenerys gave them a nod in greeting, a kind smile gracing her lips although she was visibly tired. A massive map of Westeros had been spread out on the table before them, curiously enough. With their arrival, the meeting could finally begin.

Robb gravitated to stand next to Arya and Sansa - and wherever Robb went, Fianna followed naturally.

"What are our numbers?" Daenerys prompted, looking towards Grey Worm and Jon for an answer. With a sullen sigh, the Unsullied commander gathered a number of pawns representing his fleet into his hand and stepped back.

"Half are gone," he revealed, stepping back so the surviving Dothraki leader could swipe away a vast number of his own.

"And the Golden Company has arrived in King's Landing," Varys added a number of new objects aside the King's Landing mark, causing Daenerys to visibly wince, "courtesy of the Greyjoy fleet. I dare say we may be outnumbered, even with two full grown dragons."

"When the people find out what we have done for them-" Missandei began, only to be cut off by Daenerys.

"Cersei will make sure they don't believe it," she admitted pessimistically. "We will have to rip her hard. We will rip her out root and stem."

The council room fell silent for a moment, everyone looking between each other to see who would be the next to comment. Robb and Fianna were simply wondering why their presence had been called upon at all, until Daenerys' eye turned to them. She hesitated for a moment, making Robb suspicious of her motives, before eventually revealing them.

"Perhaps the evenness of our armies and theirs wouldn't be a question if we had the support of the North," she started, somewhat sheepish. Robb closed his eyes to refrain from rolling them, hands tightly pressing against the back of the chair in front of him. Fianna's own eyes narrowed at the Targaryen - surely she didn't think they'd bend the knee if she asked nicely?

"Not a chance," Robb shut her down immediately. "I appreciate what you have done for us, it is a great debt I owe to you. But no debt is worth sacrificing my country, we are, until the end of days, a free and independent kingdom."

"I'm not asking you to bend the knee," Daenerys quirked a brow, not at all phased by his minor rant. "I'm offering you a proposition."

Tyrion and Varys immediately met eyes, the young Queen hadn't disclosed of this proposed offer to them for their viewpoints, or even hinted towards it.

"A proposition?" Fianna echoed, tilting her head slightly. Sansa's eyes darted back and forth between the blonde and her good-brother, shoulders tense from distrust.

"Fight for me," Daenerys started, chest puffing out with confidence, "help me take back King's Landing and I will allow the North to _remain_ free."

The room fell so silent a pin drop could have been heard, but the only one who looked towards Daenerys with a non-horrified expression was her niece. If anything, Fianna was fighting back a smirk.

"You're saying you'd give us the North? No strings attached? No wars or invasions?" Robb questioned, trying to reaffirm it. He, more than anyone, was suspicious. Daenerys had sailed the seas to become the Queen of Seven Kingdoms, surely she wouldn't just give the largest one away?

"You warned me against sending the Dothraki into the field first," she looked down, fighting the embarrassment creeping up from the piercing gazes fixated on her. "You warned me against sending a group North of the wall to prove to Cersei the White Walkers exist. You also told me that Cersei would never have rode North for us. Every time you both were right, where my own council had failed me.

"I don't have love in Westeros. The natives fear me - see me as a tyrant and a conqueror who means to burn them to the ground. They say before the Red Wedding you were the strongest contender in the War of the Five Kings, Robb Stark. And as I said, they call you 'the Undefeated' for a reason, Fianna. I could burn down King's Landing and force them to bend the knee to me at any moment, but if my father's legacy taught me anything, it's that fear will only inhibit the realm so much before a saviour rises. If I want to free Westeros, they have to _want_ me to. And as it stands, I'd rather be the Queen of Six Kingdoms than the Queen of none. You both have garnered the love of the people, won every battle you've partaken in on your strategies alone and have managed to stay alive despite never being at peace. You said that you owed me a favour, let that favour be lending me your minds, your counsel and your swords for a single battle."

"Daenerys-" Tyrion began, preparing to ask her for a moment alone to carefully reconsider her offer, but the Queen simply shut him down with a harsh glare. She had poured all of her trust into Varys and Tyrion as the council members with the most knowledge on Westeros, but they were failing her thus far.

Fianna swallowed thickly, mind racing with thought. She'd have sooner expected Dany to burn her alive than actually bend to their revolution. For a moment, she expected foul play. But one look at the desperation in her bright blue eyes told Fianna that Daenerys wasn't tricking them. She cast a glance over to Robb, unsure of how he would feel of the situation. He, more than anyone in the room - Sansa included, didn't like nor trust Daenerys. She could see the physical symptoms appearing on him because of the war of debate raging in his mind.

"You'd be sending Northmen to their death, Northmen that are tired and wounded from battle as it is," Sansa piped up, still in enough disbelief of the offer to outright refuse on the grounds of absurdity.

"It's a risk, I'm aware," Daenerys agreed, raising her eyebrows, "but think of the benefits. In a war against my armies and yours, who do you truly believe would win? You'd be saving so many more by accepting. Not to mention, I am offering you the revenge you have seeked for almost _eight_ years on a silver platter."

At this, Robb's head shot up, eyes blazing. He hadn't expected this meeting to bring such stress - that the fate of the North would rest in his hands.

"Revenge?" He pressed, jawline becoming more prominent as he tensed up.

"The Lannisters were responsible for the death of your mother and father," she spoke clearly, Tyrion recognising this as the stance and voice she used for speeches, "for the imprisonment of your sister, for the butchering of hundreds at the Red Wedding, for putting the Boltons in charge, for placing your wife, yourself and your unborn children at risk. With the army you have now, you will never be able to deliver the blow that cuts the Lion's head off. But if you fortify my army with yours? She doesn't stand a chance."

As Robb settled down into the chair next to Fianna with a huff, he felt a warm hand slide over to grip onto his own underneath the table, squeezing it with reassurance. The King finally met Fianna's gaze, which was entirely calm and undisturbed. He expected her to look somewhat perturbed, given that she had never been so quiet in a council meeting before now, but perhaps she was merely allowing him to come to the decision she already had.

Giving Fianna's hand a squeeze of his own, he stood up straight, rounding around the table to greet Daenerys head on. Grey Worm tensed at their close contact, but forced himself to simmer down when Robb simply lifted his hand up to Daenerys.

A wide grin overtook her face, eyes darting back to Fianna to confirm the decision was mutual, before her own hand lifted to clutch onto his forearm - a traditional symbol of a bond being forged.

"Well, Daenerys Targaryen," Robb began, dropping his hand with a widening smirk developing, "let's get this son of a bitch."

"Finally!" Fianna proclaimed, shooting out of her chair with her attention now fixated on the map before her. It was as if she was waiting for Robb to hurry up and agree to the treaty so she could get started, her mind swimming with strategies and tactics they could use to penetrate the almost impenetrable fortress.

Fianna had considered sieges a personal talent of her own by now - whether it be defending against them or committing them. But King's Landing was a full _city_ , not a mere Lord's castle. She wouldn't be able to distract the archers or guards on the wall this time, or douse the grapple hooks with wolfsbane. Every single avenue and route would have to be planned out.

Tyrion, although cautious of the alliance, had to admit Daenerys had cleverly managed to silence the Northern rebellion and gain a powerful ally - even if it was at her own expense. He often worried her hunger for power would overcome her, but perhaps she had just proven him wholly incorrect.

"I propose the Northern army and the bulk of our own travel down the King's road, while a smaller fleet and the dragons sail by the sea to reach Dragonstone," Tyrion offered, sliding the pawns representing each party in the direction with which he wanted.

"Are you _mental_?" She sneered incredulously, batting his hand away from the map. "You mean to take a small fleet and the dragons over the sea, where Euron Greyjoy has just reinforced his army and holds precedence over? For what reason exactly?"

"Well, Dragonstone is a strong fort to fall back to-" he stammered, eyes widening as he watched her drag his repositioned pawns all into the one area.

"She's not here to be Queen of Dragonstone, she's here to take King's Landing," Fianna scoffed, shaking her head with disapproval. "We will _all_ travel by the King's Road. The journey with a vanguard this size could take two weeks, but it's the safer route."

Daenerys couldn't help but smile again as Fianna ranted, knowing that she had made the right decision. Her Hand was experienced in all things political - but a battle was Fianna's territory.

"And what of our men?" Sansa prompted stubbornly, albeit, Fianna understood completely. Her questions weren't out of place - even Daenerys' dragons and armies needed to heal from their sores before getting back into it.

"The longer I wait, the stronger my enemies become," Daenerys huffed impatiently, placing Sansa's reluctance down to her dislike of the Targaryen ruler.

"And the faster we leave, the weaker _we_ are," Robb cut in, returning along the table to Fianna's side. Jon had been mute for the entire meeting, never offering his input once - even when the offer was on the table for an independent North. Sparing a glance towards him, Robb grimaced at the sight of Jon's expression. He looked entirely like a fish out of water, even worse - he looked excluded.

It had to have been a harsh blow to receive for Daenerys to offer Robb the North after demanding Jon bend the knee, it made him look a fool for it. Feeling guilty for his exclusion, Robb decided to directly include him.

"What do you think, Jon? Wait or go?" Robb pressed, twitching his lips to show that he meant well. In truth, Jon didn't much know if his opinion mattered any more. Daenerys had let the North go, presumedly to Robb, he wasn't the Lord of Winterfell any more. He wasn't much of anything, except the King's brother.

But Daenerys seemed to want his input as well, so perhaps he wasn't free from this political game just yet.

"Any of the severely wounded will likely never be ready in the time frame we need," he guessed, stepping toward the table instead of loitering back. "Broken bones and stab wounds can take a month to heal, and with the two weeks of travelling, I say we give it a month before moving."

All eyes turned to Daenerys, who was effectively the commander at that moment. She hesitated, glancing back and forth between the eyes of her advisors - both old and new.

"A month it is, then," she conceded.

"While we're North, Cersei will be preparing for a siege," Tyrion announced, settling into a free chair next to Robb. "She's seen the dragons by now, it's safe to assume she probably has more than one of those weapons that nearly took down Drogon when you wiped out Jaime's fleet."

"So Rhaegal and Drogon will burn down the walls, tear down their defences," Daenerys proposed, somewhat naively. To this day, she still considered her dragons somewhat invincible, but they simply couldn't afford to lose another. Viserion was too much of a loss, if another dragon were to die - especially one with Daenerys mounted on top, the results could be disastrous.

"I would advise you to be cautious of setting King's Landing alight," Varys cut in, lips curled in as his gaze swept over the map. "The Mad King left pockets of Wildfire throughout the city, there's no telling where they all are."

"Wildfire?" Fianna repeated, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Wolfsbane was her speciality, but she didn't mind branching out. "Is there anywhere you're sure there's wildfire to be found?"

"There's a brothel in Flea Bottom, I believe it's known as ' _The Red Keep's Red Keep'_ , it's the only place outside of the actual Red Keep where I know for certain wildfire lies underneath it."

Catching onto Fianna's thoughts, Tyrion raised his eyebrows, a glint of excitement in his eye.

"The gates of the city are being kept open to allow everyone inside for 'safety', although I'd imagine it's a ploy by Cersei to ensure Daenerys won't burn a path straight through to her," he mused, fingers slipping up to cup his bearded chin. He looked entirely pensive, they all did. The greatest minds in Westeros were gathered in one room.

"How about we exchange battering rams and grappling hooks for a few well placed infiltrators?" Fianna suggested, her smirk widening into a full fledged smile. Robb found a smile of his own in watching her - Fianna in her own element was truly a marvellous sight to see. Cillian Bua would have been proud.

"Infiltrators that can reach the wildfire and take down their defence themselves," she continued, leaning back in her chair, satisfied with the plan brewing within her racing mind.

"I'll go," Robb presented himself, all eyes dragging towards him.

"Not a chance, Robb," Fianna shook her head, words arising from both a place of practicality and concern. "The town guard will be on look out for anyone trying to infiltrate. Anyone who very obviously looks like a warrior will be investigated."

"If not us, then who?" Jon solicited, gaze flicking over to Daenerys to gauge her reaction. Although he was surprised to see she was entirely pleased with the proceedings, a far cry from the woman begging in his arms the night before.

"When I became Queen in the North I didn't only offer the opportunity for women to join my army for sheer strength in numbers," Fianna's fingers fiddled with a Stark pawn, tracing her fingernail over the grooves in the wolf's head. "Contrary to popular belief, there is a place for women in the army that extends beyond cleaning wounds and serving to the needs of men. We fly under watchful eyes, we don cloaks and rags and slip past the most careful of commanders. The women in the Bua force are trained well, I suggest we assemble an infantry of twenty and no more."

"Count myself amongst those twenty," Arya brought forth, "I know a thing or two about disguising oneself. And besides, I've got a name on the top of my list that needs crossing off."

Sansa, Robb and Jon moved to object, but the fierceness in her gaze silenced their rebuttals. Arya had just killed the most untouchable evil in their world, she was more than capable of slipping into a city. Her final comment also proved to solidify the notion that she hadn't simply pledged to fight for Daenerys. This wasn't for the North, or for the Targaryen Queen. This was for Cersei Lannister.

"Twenty might be a small group but there is still great need for a leader to ensure nothing goes wrong," Fianna nodded towards Arya, a secretive smile between them. "I'll lead the infiltrators and take down their defence lines, so the rest of the armies can advance into King's Landing."

"Fianna-" Robb cut in, eyes incredulously wide with concern, but a quick slip of her hand into his quietened his protests. He didn't like it, but what difference was there in Fianna leading the infiltrators than him leading the Northern army? A great risk was posed to them both. And he had long since learned in their many years together, that to force Fianna Bua into doing, or not doing, something was a futile effort.

The meeting soon disbanded after, parties separating in every which way to achieve the rest and recuperation necessary before what would hopefully be the _final_ battle. A final battle in what felt like a lifetime of war.

Arya stood in the corner while everyone dispersed, prompting Fianna to approach the Stark girl with a coy smile. They had their differences over Robb's short-lived rebellion, but the two had been through too much together to let their bond be affected by a game of thrones.

"You and I, side by side again," Fianna nodded proudly, knowing that the job would get done if Arya Stark was involved.

"It's been too long," she replied with amusement. Robb's wooden chair slid against the stone ground as he clambered out of it, lips twisting with the dry humour he was now perpetually associated with as he called out to the two girls.

"Try not to kiss my sister this time," he winked at his wife, receiving an eye roll from both in response.

* * *

"Get dressed again," were the first words Robb spoke to Fianna, after rather abruptly bursting into their chambers whilst her handmaidens were removing the laces of her dress from the day. "We're going out."

"Robb!" Fianna called out in protest, never one to shy away when her body was exposed - especially in front of her husband, but she rather had a problem with the manner in which he demanded her. Her maids looked toward her expectantly, reluctantly beginning to retie her corset after a nod of confirmation. "It's late in the day, what could you possibly have in mind?"

"The twins are fast asleep and carefully guarded, and you and I are going to a tavern in Wintertown," Robb announced, a mischievous smirk visible on his lips. Fianna scoffed at the suggestion before wincing at a particularly strong pull on her laces. Now fully redressed, her handmaiden, Rosaline, began to rework the intricate braid that had fallen throughout the day.

It had been a week since they decided to march on King's Landing, and although the next month was kept aside for rest and recuperation, the King and Queen in the North rarely got a chance to sit down as of late. Too much time was spent on the rebuilding of Winterfell that by the time they laid down to rest at night, their bodies fell asleep within seconds.

"What would bring us to a bloody tavern?" She raised an eyebrow haughtily, curious of her husband's intentions.

"It's Jon's nameday, and I need a bloody break from duty," he muttered as he crossed the room towards the fireplace, warming his hands over the flames. "He wanted a small affair, no big celebration. So only you, Arya, Sansa, Rickon, Samwell and myself are heading down."

Tormund would have been included in that list, she suspected. But the wildlings had up and left soon after the Long Night, feeling out of place in the stone walls surrounding Winterfell. Fianna noted there were a few exclusions from that list, most notably Daenerys and Bran. The Queen suspected Bran had little affection for celebrations such as these, but she was rather surprised by Daenerys - who had confided in Fianna all week long about her romantic struggles with Jon. Fianna, never having had many female friends outside of the Stark family, was a little uneducated about the boundaries of 'girl talk'. Although she quickly learned that answering 'just move on, there's bound to be another non-incestuous prosper you can pursue,' was most definitely _not_ the right thing to say.

Daenerys would have jumped at the opportunity to celebrate Jon's nameday, which led her to the conclusion she simply hadn't been invited.

"I don't know that the world is ready for a drunken Fianna Stark again," she mused, tugging on her winter cloak after Rosaline tapped her shoulder to signal she was finished with her braid.

"I'm certainly not," Robb shook his head, allowing her to step out of the room before him in a mannerly fashion, then following after. "You're a beautiful woman, but not when you're vomiting into a chamber pot first thing in the morning."

"I'm fairly certain there's a vow we took about loving your partner in sickness as well as health," she narrowed her eyes at him as they trailed towards the small party gathered in the courtyard.

"Well, I'm fairly certain that when we wed I didn't imagine I'd ever have to see you with bile in your hair," he shrugged teasingly, placing his hand on her lower-back after she gave him the lightest of shoves in protest.

"I've never been to a tavern," Rickon naively called out to them after they descended the stairs, receiving incredulous looks from all except Fianna.

"What do you say, brother?" Robb nodded towards Jon, eying Rickon with a playful glint in his eye, "I think it's high time our youngest experiences his first drink."

* * *

Despite paying the barkeep a handsome amount throughout the night to keep the drinks flowing and to keep judgements away from their table, the Stark family still received stares from their servers and the other patrons. Fianna couldn't blame them, it wasn't every day that almost all the Stark family, including the King and Queen, decided to shack up in a lowly tavern. But Jon was too modest for bountiful celebrations, he wanted to spend the night with those that mattered most.

Sansa had been the most dignified thus far, only on her second cup of ale as she drank slowly. She imagined she would be the ones fetching their guard to escort them back later, and decided _someone_ ought to know how to get home. Arya was holding her drink well, the least tipsy of them all aside from Sansa. The others were a rather different story.

"And he says to me," Fianna blabbered, the cup in her hand sloshing around as she made wild hand gestures to accompany her story, "Tywin Lannister that is, he says 'Buas are known for their strategies and their handsomeness,' so I says to him- that's me, _I_ said this, 'if you brought me here to kiss my arse I'll gladly expose it for you to do so!"

Their table erupted into bellows of laughter, with Robb laughing the hardest. For all his teasing earlier that night, he was most definitely the most intoxicated of them all by this point. Even Sansa chuckled at the comment, or more so Fianna's overly dramatic facial expressions while doing so.

"It's true!" Arya added in, pointing her flagon towards Fianna, "I was there as his cupbearer! I heard it!"

"Someone ought to write a book on your adventures," Jon shook his head with amusement, taking another sip of his drink. It was a lot stronger than the barrels they had back at Winterfell, which probably explained his sudden lack of co-ordination.

"That's my woman, right there!" Robb boasted proudly, banging his cup down onto the table several times. "'Marry a Frey', they wanted me to! Not in this lifetime!"

"I don't feel so good," Rickon mumbled against the wood of the table, having rested his forehead down on it moments before. As it was his first time drinking, or at least drinking more than a sip of wine with his dinner, his stomach wasn't handling it as well as his hardened brothers.

"We've broken the poor boy, Robb," Jon laughed, smacking his hand against the younger lad's back. Sansa worriedly felt her hand against his cheek, noting how warm he felt to the touch.

"Perhaps we should take him back," she suggested, knowing that she was the only one able to carry him at this moment in time - and she most certainly wasn't going to.

"Nonsense," Robb shook his head adamantly. "On the last nameday Jon celebrated before he took the black, Theon and I took him to this very same place and got him so drunk he saw the light of the Heavens."

"Father never struck me in his life," Jon replied, laughter emerging in a snort through his nose, "but I never saw him actually consider it until I vomited all over Maester Luwin's robes."

"On his robes?" Fianna scoffed drunkenly, some liquid spilling over the rim of her cup onto her hand and the table beneath. "That's nothing. One time Tiernan vomited on _me._ "

Sansa forced a strained smile while the others broke down into raucous laughter. In truth, she'd rather never hear the name Tiernan Bua be spoke again, to save her from the pain that followed. But she was also aware that a man as great as himself _deserved_ to be talked about.

"A toast!" Robb announced suddenly, his words slurred over as he lifted his cup high into the air in Jon's general direction, who looked sheepishly down with the sudden attention onto him. "To my beautiful bastard brother! A shite King, but still owner of the best hair this side of Westeros!"

Jon couldn't help but laugh at Robb's jest, knowing it was good-humoured and not intending to insult. His cheeks burned as the table cheered loudly for him, their cups raised as high as their voices. It captured the attention of the rest of the tavern attendants, but for once, Jon allowed himself to be like his siblings and not care at all what others thought.

* * *

 _ **I'm sure there'll always be ONE person who will say that Daenerys offering up the North is out of character. But it couldn't be be any more outlandish than Daenerys burning tens of thousands of innocent people alive!**_

 _ **Long story short the finale was a disaster and I'm trying to give these characters the development they deserved**_

 _ **Thank you for reading!**_

 _ **anshumangupta - He's alive. I planned on killing him originally, but couldn't bring myself to after Tiernan as well. I just can't imagine the Starks jumping back into action so soon after losing both Tiernan AND Rickon. So it might have been more impactful, but enough blood was shed in my opinion.**_

 _ **Cleo9247 - Oh god no! I can't say if Missandei and Rhaegal will survive, just like I can't say any of these characters will but I made a long council meeting for a reason so Fianna could establish the flaws in travelling by sea that lead to Rhaegal and Missandei's death, fuck that to be honest ahahah.**_

 _ **Shannan - I was thinking of having Robb react angrily, but then I thought you know what? Nah. Family means the world to Robb, and he's seen how much Jon has struggled since Robb basically usurped him. I think he'd choose their bond over his hatred of the Targaryens. I thought episode 5 and 6 was atrocious writing, like damn I never said my book was good but that was TERRIBLE. Cersei and Jaime's ending will definitely be different in this book that's for sure!**_

 _ **sltsky96 - There wouldn't be a point in building up Dany and Fianna if I was sticking with the main story, but I'm not! So you'll soon see why their relationship is important. For episode 5, I'm conflicted in that the cinematography and acting was brilliant, I just would have liked a better build up to the Mad Queen plot instead of her just flipping!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - more you shall have! Hope you like it x**_

 _ **zemblenity - Thanks so much! Oh it was sooo rushed. I had intended to have this book finished with a chapter per episode, but now I'm going to have way more than planned because I don't want to rush the plot the way it was hahaha I was almost excited to be done!**_


	63. (LXII) God of Death

_**SONG:**_ _Wake Your Soul by The Hope Arsenal_

 _Aifric_

 **"IT'S ONLY FOR A MONTH OR SO, DARLING,"** Fianna's voice was tight as she wiped the tears from Eddie's cheeks, sniffing as she felt sobs brewing within herself as well. It wasn't the first time she was forced to say goodbye to the twins, but it was surely the hardest. The older they got, the more aware they became and the more they remembered the feeling of not having their parents around to tuck them in at night and kiss their foreheads.

While Eddard reacted rather emotionally to the revelation of their upcoming departure, Aifric was more stoic - perpetually the angrier of the two. Robb had tried desperately to take her into his arms and embrace her before leaving, and every time she had smacked away his hands. Her lower lip shook the more he attempted it, a telltale sign of incoming tears that would rival her brothers.

"Aifric, please," he pleaded, dropping his hands uselessly by his sides and meeting Fianna's gaze over Eddie's burnt auburn hair.

"You always leave!" She shouted suddenly, her outburst finally reaching the surface and causing her to storm away through the courtyard with footsteps heavy enough to smack the mud. Robb stood up straight with a sigh, shivering uncomfortably at the damp sensation of snow sweeping through the knees of his breeches. Fondly, he rubbed the head of his crying son with the promise that he would be back in a moment, nodding towards his wife before jetting off to find the final family member - his daughter.

It wasn't hard to find Aifric's trek, the route she had decided to stomp through had left a number of bystanders looking incredulously at the manner in which the King's daughter had walked past. He had hoped beyond hope he'd catch up to her before she ended up hurting herself on some of the stray stones and equipment lying around that was being used to reconstruct Winterfell's walls. The tantrum had reminded him so much of Sansa in her early years, it was uncanny.

Further ahead, the miniature redhead was too busy glancing over her shoulder for her father following that she didn't realise she was about to walk into someone. The sudden impact of meeting someone's legs sent her backward onto her bottom, scraping her hands and soaking the backside of her blue dress that Sansa had only just sewed for her.

"Oh!" A feminine voice called out, Aifric's stare glancing up from her reddening hands to see a towering blonde above her. Despite her warm and concerned expression, the Stark daughter scrambled back out of fear. She may have only been nearing the age of five, but she was quickly able to pick up that many of those surrounding her feared the white-haired woman who had brought massive winged beasts to her home.

"It's okay!" Daenerys soothed in a calming voice, crouching down to her level and giving the girl a glance over. "Are you alright, my lady?"

Her words caused the girl to pause in her manoeuvres, sapphire eyes narrowing in suspicion as a hand was suddenly extended to help her. Daenerys slowly slid her hands underneath Aifric's armpits, gently lifting her onto her feet as if she were as fragile as paper, all in an effort to not frighten her further.

"You've grazed your hands," she tutted, sliding her cool fingers over the minute scrapes that littered the child's palms. "Not to worry, they'll be gone by the time you marry."

Daenerys grinned at her own joke, and then at the response with which Aifric had given her. Sticking her tongue out in distaste, the youngest Stark prodigy scrunched her nose and let out a profound 'ick' noise from the back of her throat.

"Are you the Dragon lady?" Aifric prompted suddenly, her nerves seeming to dissipate once she recognised Daenerys wasn't an immediate threat to her.

"Amongst other things, yes," she breathed a chuckle, ignoring the cramps developing in her thighs from crouching for too long.

"Can I ride a dragon too?" She beamed with excitement, and against her better judgement, Daenerys decided to feed into her childlike whims before a day came that she wouldn't boldly ask such questions.

"When you're as tall as I am, yes," the Targaryen Queen assured, tucking a stray lock of her fiery hair behind her ear. It had been a long time since Daenerys had even looked a child in the eye, perhaps it was something she had actively avoided. The pain of losing her own babe, and the promise she'd never hold another, was enough to ward her away from feeding into the need she had to birth a babe. A babe with her blonde locks and blue eyes, with a fiery temper but a heart of gold.

"Aifric!" The unmistakable voice of Robb Stark cried out, the owner himself breathing a sigh of relief upon coming into view of the two. He hurried towards the girl, checking over her quickly to ensure she was alright before meeting Daenerys watchful eye.

The blonde wondered if she had a babe with Jon if he would act the same way, doting and caring. Something she herself never had.

"She had a little fall, but she's alright," she reassured, straightening to stand in sync with him as he gathered his daughter in arm. He was pleased to see that whatever conversation, however small it was, had erased the troubled expression that was etched on Aifric's features only minutes before.

"Thank you," Robb nodded sincerely, turning on his heel to return to the rest of their family. Daenerys' chest clenched when the little girl, who had stolen her heart in a matter of seconds, waved innocently at her over her father's shoulders.

* * *

"Mother?" Aifric whispered to her parent while they supped at their last feast that evening, eyebrows furrowed as she mindlessly pushed the food around on the plate. Neither of the twins were eating much that night, something that concerned their parents greatly.

"Yes, love?" She answered quickly, feeling rather full herself even though she had only swallowed two bites of the deer meat. No doubt tonight would be restless, her mind unable to think of anything other than her babes and their sour mood.

"Do you hate us?" She questioned, causing her mother's fork to clatter against the side of her plate in shock. Fianna slowly turned to look at her daughter with widened eyes, horrified that she would ever come to such a conclusion.

"No, never could I ever hate you," she denied, sliding her chair back to be able to turn to Aifric fully. "Why would you possibly think that?"

"Eddie said if you loved us, you wouldn't leave us all the time," she confessed quietly, eyes watering to Fianna's horror.

"I'm only leaving for a short while so I can keep you _safe_ ," Fianna reassured desperately, placing her hand on Aifric's knee.

"But we don't want you to leave," Eddie's voice added from the chair on the other side of his sister, tone as equally meek. Exasperated, Fianna turned back around to the table, resting her face in her hands and trying her best not to cry in front of a room full of Lords who were depending on her strength.

"Neither of you have to worry," Sansa cut in, leaning towards the duo and hoping to lighten the situation once she began to sense distress arising. "You'll both have Rickon and I to take care of you."

"But where's Tiernan?" Eddie responded stubbornly, still unaware of the totality of the events that unfolded a month before. His words were powerful enough to even silence Sansa, and to elicit the building sob through Fianna's throat.

Fianna frantically wiped underneath her eyes in the hopes that no one would notice, and that was when Robb had decided to step in and defuse the situation by removing them from the public eye.

"Come on," he dropped his cutlery onto the table, patting the shoulder of his wife and then his children, "we're all ending dinner early to go and pray."

"I don't want to pray," Eddie retorted stubbornly, but he had little choice when Fianna dragged him from the chair and into her arms, the clan quickly leaving the scene before a commotion was made.

The family of four made their way towards the Godswood, although admittedly, it wasn't a place they ventured as often as they should have. After so much death, Fianna always pondered if there were any gods at all. And if so, why they had decided to treat her so unjustly.

They slowly trekked through the path, fresh snow crunching beneath their feet as Fianna allowed Eddie to slide back onto his feet and hold onto her hand instead, his sister holding her other one.

Robb didn't stop leading them until he was up and close to the Weirwood tree, staring deeply into the intricate carvings of its tearful face. It frightened him as a boy, but little scared Robb Stark now other than the potential loss of his family. It slowly began to dawn on Robb that people reacted differently to trauma.

His sister Sansa had taken every bad hand she was dealt and turned it into a stepping stone for becoming one of the smartest people he knew. But there was never any doubt before her trauma, even when they were younger and he would tease her preference for ladylike activities, Sansa's knowledge always developed faster than his, despite their age difference.

Robb himself liked to think he had learned from his mistakes. Where once he was brash, proud and unwilling to bend - he was now aware that regardless of the Red Wedding he was fighting a losing war. Whether that was because he placed too much trust in others, mainly Theon and Roose, or because he truly was the 'boy' he had sworn he wasn't.

Becoming imprisoned by Ramsay Bolton had only taught him another lesson - that nothing was more important than protecting those that you love. In his case, that included both his relatives by blood and the entirety of the North. The potential for vengeance was offered to him by Daenerys, but it wasn't what prompted him to accept her proposal. What spurred him on was the potential to once again protect the North, and thus, his family.

Looking towards Fianna now as she struggled to withhold the tears threatening to build, he felt that same niggling sensation he had for several weeks now. Like a thought in his brain that begged his lips to voice it aloud.

Fianna didn't react to grief and trauma the way most people surrounding him had.

He once thought that perhaps his loving wife was kissed by the God of Death upon her birth, for it seemed to follow her throughout her lifetime from the second she drew her first birth. From her mother dying in childbirth, her aunt killing herself, her father dying abruptly from an illness for which they found no cure, the butchering of her entire army in front of her eyes in her name, the Red Wedding, Chroí and then Tiernan. With each death, Fianna's lust for justice grew stronger and stronger.

He had watched her over the final weeks, seen the excited glint in her eyes as she drew up strategies and planned the siege to account for every minuscule detail. Fianna felt _alive_ and in her own element when doing so. All Robb could do was wonder what would happen when it stopped. When her final act of revenge was enacted, the final bell of surrender rang and her final journey home from a battle travelled. Would she resort to living her days fulfilling the political side of her Queen duties, or would the lust for battle leave her restless until the end of life?

For it seemed only now she was starting to realise the full impact it would have on her children if one single stray arrow or sword meant she wouldn't be returning to them at all.

"Why do we have to pray?" Aifric pressed as Robb led them to sit on the damp log set up adjacent to the tree, where attendants could sit and pray in peace.

"You pray to the Gods for things you wish for, what do you wish for?" He prompted, resting his hand on Eddie's upper back.

"For my own direwolf!" Aifric answered without hesitation, an excited squeak in her voice. Eddie took a little longer to respond to the question, fiddling with his fingers in thought.

"For nobody to leave again," he admitted finally, hooded eyes and slumped shoulders giving away that he was beginning to grow tired. Today had perhaps been too much for the littlest Starks.

"Well," Fianna stood up to round the log, sinking down onto her knees in front of them so she could clasp their hands in her own. "I promise you, this time is the last time. We will never leave you, never again. Okay?"

Tired from protesting, the twins finally relented their unforgiving objections with a nod of their heads. Robb relaxed a hair when they did so, glad they wouldn't be leaving in the morning on a sour note. But he was perhaps a little uncomfortable with Fianna's comment preceding it.

They shouldn't have promised the twins anything.

* * *

 _Arya_

"Promise me you'll be careful," Sansa clutched the smaller Stark woman tightly, in a rare act of affection that left them both rather emotional. There would be no convincing Arya to stay, the least Sansa could do was try her best to warn her of what was ahead. "King's Landing is a snake pit, and Cersei is Queen serpent."

"I'll be alright," Arya reassured her sister, head tilted back from a much smaller height. "I always survive."

"Then look after Jon and Robb, please," she pleaded, expression becoming somewhat cooler. She was still displeased with their decision to travel South, but there was little to be done now. "Starks don't do well in the South."

"We're going to be okay, Sansa," Arya smiled, a rare sight on the usually cool woman. Their arms released from each other to allow her to continue down the line onto the next brother, pausing to pet the head of the ever-growing wolfhound Tiernan had gifted Sansa with. Sona rarely strayed from Sansa's side these days after the Long Night.

"I wish I was going with you," Rickon huffed as she brought him in for a hug, "I killed some wights, I'm ready to battle again."

"And I killed the Night King," Arya raised an eyebrow confidently as she let go, "so keep practising."

Bran was last in line, and potentially the one she was least comfortable in hugging freely. The 'three-eyed raven' never did seem all that comfortable with affection now. Sometimes she wondered if he was honest when had said he wasn't Bran Stark any more, for the man before her was a far cry from the boy she used to duel with in the courtyard.

"Your list isn't done," he told her coyly while she patted him on the arm, eliciting a baffled expression as a result. "You have one more name to add onto it."

"Who?" She pressed, eyeing the all-knowing seer in front of her. "Who have I got left to add?"

"Trust your instinct, Arya. It's never let you down before."

She stared at him for a moment, unsure whether to mark his words as only cryptic and lacking true sense. Or to take what he said as a serious warning.

Further down the line, Robb was embracing his red-haired sister warmly, attempting to melt the icy exterior she was trying to put up for him. It worked, of course, and within seconds she was gripping onto him with as much ferocity as he held her.

"Father couldn't trust anyone in King'd Landing, and neither should you," she warned him, eyebrows furrowed with seriousness as he slowly began to pull back from her hold.

"And to think," Robb teased with a rising smirk, "you actually wanted to go there once upon a time."

She raised an eyebrow in response, lips upturning in amusement as she gave him one last embrace before he was forced to move on so he could have time to say goodbye to his brothers.

"Take care of the North while I'm gone," Fianna hummed as she stepped forward for a hug of her own, "the Gods know you'll do an even better job than myself."

"It just comes naturally to me," she smirked, breathing a chuckle before they departed from each other. A strong sense of mutual respect had formed between the girls since she had escaped Ramsay's clutches, building until Fianna was sure Sansa was one of her closest friends.

"Fianna," Bran called out to her after she left the line of Starks to head for the horses. She had given him a short embrace and nothing more, truly not knowing what to tell him at all.

"Yes?" She asked, pausing to allow him to speak while the others headed onward.

"Everything happens for a reason," he informed her, a knowing undercurrent in his words that told her to heed it as a warning.

* * *

 _Fianna_

It felt almost like home to her, life on the Kingsroad with a vanguard at her back. It _had_ been home to her before, for longer than it should have been. But it was different this time, their army much more diverse and the nights much too cool to sleep inside a tent. Daenerys was at the very front, where she and Robb once were, with husband and wife following close behind.

Jon had yet to stray from Robb's side, brothers riding side by side on horseback. At first, Fianna thought it was because they enjoyed each other's company. Robb would inquire about life above the wall, his knowledge and prejudiced opinions about Wildlings instilled from birth slowly beginning to change with every anecdote Jon would relay. Robb was shocked to hear about his connection with a free folk woman, who's relationship with Jon was best described as tumultuous. His voice had fairly lowered in volume as he relayed that tale, weary of the Queen mere feet away who probably wouldn't have wanted to hear of the woman who had stolen Jon's heart and never returned it.

"I hate King's Landing," Arya muttered from beside Fianna, clearly feeling out of place amongst the vanguard. She was a lone wolf, not someone who needed to rely on numbers for true strength. "The whole city smells of shit. The air is musty and hard to breathe in, and the people are treacherous roaches."

"Would you rather live above the Wall or live in King's Landing?" Fianna asked suddenly, wondering the answer herself.

"Above the wall," she answered without hesitation, loosening her grip on her horse's reigns. "I don't mind Winter, and all I've ever wanted is freedom from titles and expectations. What about you?"

"I think I would live above the wall too," Fianna confessed, smiling wistfully at the idea of open and tranquil spaces. She could see it in her mind's eye - herself, Robb and their children. Huddled around a fire, the girls hair free from constricting braids and clothes more comfortable than pretty. The only image she had ever received of the North was the sight of wights trying to kill her allies, she hoped to one day change that and catch a glimpse of the truly scenic views.

"Let's say we go there someday," Fianna continued, looking toward Arya with a warm smile. "When the twins are a little older, we'll all travel above the wall. For a couple of months, to get away from lands and titles."

"Yes," Arya nodded, excited by prospect of discovering new land.

"Did I hear that correctly, or are my extremely Westerosi cousins making plans to become Free Folk?" Jon interrupted their talk with an amused grin, eliciting a laugh from Robb. "You wouldn't last five minutes!"

Fianna and Arya scoffed in offence, looking between the two of them with narrowed eyes.

"And why not?" Arya prompted, voice high-strung and upper-half as straight as a board to appear somewhat taller.

"You'll kill animals for food? Give up the warmth of a castle in exchange for furs and firepits?"

"Keep going Jon," Fianna threatened, although her voice and expression were light with mirth, "I'll send a raven to all the houses and tell everyone your real name!"

"Oh _you_ want to threaten me with exposing true lineages?" He fired back, raising an eyebrow smartly. Robb bellowed at that comment, one hand clapping over his chest before he pointed towards Fianna, body shaking with chuckles.

"He got you there!" He pointed out, receiving an eye roll in response.

"Alright," she conceded, biting her cheeks to hide her rising grin. "Let's not be hasty. _Bonifer_ Hasty, that is."

"Seven hells!" They groaned at her excuse for a joke, shaking their heads in disapproval. Their raucous laughter captured the attention of the Targaryen Queen, who peered over her shoulder curiously.

Once again, she looked rather excluded from their camaraderie, leading the vanguard all on her own. Upon meeting Fianna's eyes, she forced her lips into a smile, but even from a distance back the Bua daughter saw sadness in her eyes. Spurred on by a sudden sense of guilt, Fianna clicked her tongue for her mare to approach Daenerys, deciding to keep her company for a short time.

"Your grace," Daenerys greeted politely, visibly relieved that someone had finally decided to accompany her. She had been casting secretive glances back to Jon all day, but it was clear their former bond was waned enough for him to avoid her altogether.

"Your grace," Fianna echoed, snickering at the repetition. "Life at the front of the vanguard is rather solitary isn't it?"

"Yes," Daenerys admitted, subconsciously glancing to her right as if expecting Jorah to be there alongside her, as he always had. "I suppose it is."

Further back from the two Queens, travelled the remainder of the Starks. Robb's amusement had now faded completely, leaving his expression rather cold and stoic. He knew well that his wife had established some sort of connection with Daenerys, and was also aware what happened the last time the two women were in close contact.

Jon noticed his brother's sudden sullenness, the conversation having fallen silent, following his eye line to see the traveling blonde and brunette.

"You don't approve?" Jon stated, labelled as a question although he already knew the answer.

"Daenerys and Fianna are a dangerous combination, Jon," Robb sighed, dragging his gaze away before it incensed him further. "You know it as well as I. They can never be friends in their positions, and the Gods know what will happen when they both realise that."

"I know what it's like to be caught between Stark and Targaryen," Jon admitted, curling his lips in uncomfortably.

"You've been avoiding the Dragon Queen, haven't you?"

"I don't know what I'm doing," Jon looked towards his brother after quickly glancing around, ensuring no one was listening. "She wants a relationship, claims she's in love with me but I can't look past it. I know Targaryens have been marrying their families for centuries, but I've never felt like a Targaryen."

"That's because you're not," Robb reassured, confident with his statement. "You've always been a Stark."

* * *

They had rode until night had fallen, when they reached a clear enough area that they deemed suitable to pitch tents and rest for another day of travelling. Everyone was exhausted from horse riding all day, thighs and back aching unrelentingly. Many were just recovering from injuries, thankful to finally rest for a few hours.

Robb and Fianna had been given their own tent, but they were the lucky ones. Due to a significant shortage in resources, many were confined to sharing, whilst others dared not to sleep in one at all.

"I want you to promise me something," Robb voiced, watching her rid herself of her armour from their bed. Fianna cocked an eyebrow at his request, grinning cheekily as her slip fell to the ground, leaving her body naked and exposed.

She walked toward her chest without embarrassment, rifling through for her nightgown and secretly enjoying the sensation of his eyes upon her. She even sashayed a little as she walked.

"What is it?" Fianna prompted light-heartedly, unaware of how serious Robb was being at that current moment.

"That this is our last battle," he announced, his hands cupped together and elbows resting on his knees. "The North can't take any more, we're stretched thinly as it is."

"Why would I have to promise that?" Her expression twisted in confusion, the nightgown now covering her body and hiding the areas his eyes naturally felt drawn to look at. "I thought that was the plan, that this would leave us in peace. A battle to end all wars."

"War just seems to follow us," he commented, suddenly casting his gaze away from her and toward the wall of the tent. She narrowed her eyes at his stance, picking up on the nervous tics he was emitting like an odour.

"War just seems to follow _me_ , you mean," she scoffed lowly, loosening her hair from the braid that was resting down her back. Her hair was tangled from its binds, but without a brush she was left with only her fingers to comb through the knots. "If you have something to say, Robb, then say it."

"You want me to say it?" He asked, standing up from the bed and turning toward her. They were like fire and oil at that minute, ready to combust if they happened to meet the other. "I've heard tales of warriors who become so obsessed with vengeance and war they have a hard time letting go of it."

"You think I'm - what, _addicted_ to battles? Is that it?" She laughed off at the ridiculousness of his claim, pushing her now unknotted hair behind her shoulders. "I have seen dozens die before my very eyes. If there's anyone who wants this war to end, it's me."

"Is it?" He pressed, taking a step closer toward her. The tension in the room was palpable, a fight brewing in the pot that was about to tip over at any moment. "You won't miss the rush of winning a battle against your worst enemies? The tingles that rise in your spine when they call you the 'She-Wolf'? The 'Undefeated'?"

"Where is this coming from?" Fianna demanded, swiftly diverting from having to answer his question.

"Why can't you just promise me that it's the end!" His voice began to raise in volume. Instead of shying away, Fianna met fire with fire and rose her own in retaliation. The floodgates had burst, any words about to pour from their mouths would surely be anger-fuelled and discredited.

"I shouldn't have to promise you! What, you think I'll start another war after this? _You_ were the one who set the pawns in place for all of this to happen when you called your banners!"

"To avenge my father's arrest!"

"There we go!" She pointed out, as if waiting for him to make a comment like that. "For _vengeance_! I have dedicated years of my life to getting vengeance for what happened to _your_ family, not mine!"

"They're not your family?" He recoiled, nostrils flaring from the rage building within him.

"I have no family," Fianna shook her head, scraping her fingers through her hair, her nails scratching her scalp. "I'm the last Bua alive since Tiernan died, and I can't even call myself a Bua any longer. My children are Starks, my good-brothers and sisters are Starks. There isn't even anyone to _claim_ the seat to Baelfort any longer! My ancestral home is up for anyone to grab at any point!"

"You're speaking as if any of that is _my_ fault," he pointed an accusatory finger at her, closing the gap between them until they were just two seething Northerners, mere inches apart.

"I didn't say it was your _fucking_ fault," she cried out exasperatedly, "but you're acting as if I wanted to have the responsibility of thousands of Northerners on my back after the Red Wedding, it was something I had to take on to avenge you and the ones they lost. Now that I have given you revenge, you look at me as if it was a hobby of mine. Like I am alcoholic, but instead of ale I yearn for the blood of my enemies."

"I would have given anything to be able to take on that responsibility," he shook his head, mind reeling back to the conditions he was left in under Ramsay's hand. "But I would have suffered a thousand times over under the Boltons if it meant you didn't have to."

Their breathing was quick, chests rising and falling rapidly and their eyes never straying from the other. They were two wolves, circling each other and waiting for provocation to attack.

"What has brought this on?" She demanded again, swallowing thickly.

"I'm sorry," he apologised after a moment, breaking their steely gaze. The fight made little sense to him either, but he didn't know how else to express his concerns to her.

Fianna didn't reply, gaze fixated on him as his posture slumped guiltily. His wife had dedicated everything to his family, he shouldn't have deduced it to nothing more than a hobby of hers.

"I'm just fearful," he admitted, moving to sit down on the edge of the bed once more with Fianna on his heels. "It seems too easy. I'm certain we'll beat Cersei, but doing that _and_ returning to an independent Kingdom that will stay independent without further bloodshed? It can't be true.

"I haven't rested a hair on my head for eight years, constantly looking over my shoulder for enemies to approach. And neither have you. I want this war to be over, but I see how excited you get planning sieges and attacks. It's like a game to you, and you revel in it."

"Perhaps some good has come from being apart after the Red Wedding for a time," she sighed, posture stiff beside him as this time it was her who avoided his gaze. "If you fear for me now, you would have lost all hope had you seen me in Baelfort. I even threatened once to kill Tiernan for trying to stand in my way."

"I have seen the darkest parts of myself," she continued, slipping her hand into his resting one. A single tear had leaked from the corner of her eye as she recalled the darkest times of her life. "I never want to go back to being like that. Not now, not ever. So even though I may struggle in a war-free Westeros, and I may need your help in adjusting, I'm being genuine when I say it needs to stop. The bloodshed, the death, the battles. All of it."

* * *

 _Daenerys_

The Targaryen Queen and her hand held back snickers at the sounds of shouting voices from the next tent over, hailing from the King and Queen in the North. Their words were hard to make out, muffled through the thick lining of both her tent and theirs, but the fact they were having a lover's tiff was amusing to them all the same.

"As I was saying," Tyrion cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows comically as he settled into the chair at her table, a long scroll in hand that was already completed - simply pending her signature. "You're sure about this? I can rewrite the deed if you are not."

"No," Daenerys denied, dipping her feather tip into the pot of ink next to her hand. "You were right, I cannot bear children. I cannot take risks when so many lives depend on me, I have to bequeath my armies and titles to someone's command and there's no one I'd trust more."

"Are you sure they're comfortable with this? There's no one I know more pure of heart, but have they got the strength to withhold two entire armies?"

"She's one of the strongest people I know," Daenerys replied confidently, pressing the pen to paper and signing her name that would seal the name of her heir, should she happen to die before her time.

* * *

 _ **This chapter might seem a little dull but I actually love it. I love writing these little in between chapters before something big happens, it's so important for character development and establishing relationships.**_

 _ **There are five chapters left in this book, I'd love to hear everyone's theories and most importantly WHO DO YOU THINK WILL WIN THE IRON THRONE? Remember I always said it would be different from the canon!**_

 _ **Guest - I'm so glad to hear that!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - Thanks! Hope you liked this one too x**_

 _ **Evaline101 - Thank you! They definitely rushed it, but I feel bad for all the cast and crew who put all that work into it**_

 _ **Shannan - Agreed! Thank god they did that documentary on the cast and crew so everyone knows the work they put into it and realises the problem literally was D &D, HBO would have paid for as many episodes as they wanted. Thanks so much, hope you like what's to come x **_

_**Scoob96 - To be fair, I have said throughout this book Fianna's father was known for being an expert strategist in Robert's rebellion and he taught his daughter everything he knew, so her skills aren't coming out of nowhere. As for your comment about Robb, I'm a little confused by it. Robb isn't going to plan this entire battle, there's a reason Kings have a council and advisors in the first place. Unless your comment was that the whole setting off wildfire thing is stupid, which in this case I think you should research how sieges were handled in the Middle Ages because I have done a lot of research to make these final chapters as realistic as possible. Sieges are usually handled three ways: going over walls or battering through gates, tunnelling underneath OR sending infiltrators in to set off fires within the city. Perhaps female warriors in the Northern army is something only specific to the books, because the ONLY Northern females I have ever seen in all the show fighting was Lyanna and Maege Mormont. Lyanna even made a comment about how Bear Island was training women as well. Robb's not excited for battle, Fianna is. Fianna's almost addicted at this point to the thrill of a battle and I've touched heavily on that before, it's also why she's not making the leadership decisions that Sansa is suggesting because the fact is that Fianna ISN'T a good Queen and I have never once said she was. Fianna's strength is battle, and the reason the North rallied behind her after the Red Wedding was because she was promising revenge THROUGH battles. She has never served as a Queen during a time of peace, and doesn't have the compassion to make a brilliant one. Robb agreeing to another battle is purely because of the prospects of maintaining Northern independence without being burned to death by Daenerys. That's what makes Robb a GOOD leader, because he thinks ahead and can see that even with a weakened army Daenerys can force the North into submission at any point. The reason he failed at war before was because he was too proud. He's learned his lesson. It'd be, sorry for the vulgarity, fucking horrendously idiotic of him to not accept the offer so it feels a little like you're almost searching for faults. So for "the North gains nothing from this" - the North gains the security that they will not be lead into ANOTHER war after Daenerys inevitably takes King's Landing. As for Daenerys having the ability to grant anything at all, she may be a conqueror but as we've seen she can get pretty much anything she wants with two dragons, a horde of dothraki and unsullied. Thanks for the comment.**_

 _ **Rudy P - So glad you think so! I hope you continue to like it!**_

 _ **zemblenity - I love writing Daenerys in this book, I'm so glad I made her and Fianna related because we saw so little of Dany and Missandei I feel like she needed that bond with another woman to show the human side of her. BRAN. SERIOUSLY?! FUCKING BRAN?! I couldn't believe it when I saw it.**_

 _ **Guest - It was very anticlimactic for me, personally! I really don't see Bran as a good King, especially since he said a few episodes before that he couldn't be a Lord or have titles so how come he can become King? What did you think of it? Thanks so much, I hope you like this book's ending!**_

 _ **purplepygmypuff16 - Ahh that makes me happy! Hope you like this one too!**_

 _ **Anna - This comment honestly made my day! I thought that the number of reviews I had already was soooo much so thank you! I can't believe you read the whole thing, thank you for excusing some grammatical errors in the first few chapters I'm dying to edit the book, thanks so much I hope you have a lovely day! x**_

 _ **demon19027 - GOD I LOVE FIANNA AND ARYA. My favourite duo in every book I've written!**_

 _ **Guest - I think that's your personal opinion. Daenerys is definitely overdue a breakdown moment, but burning thousands of men, women and children alive? I don't buy it. Maybe if there was another season where she was continuing to break more and more, but not in one episode. Daenerys is definitely power hungry and Fianna even outright told her that at one point, but I just don't believe she'd go that far. She could have killed Cersei without the innocent people who were nowhere near her. Thank you for commenting!**_

 _ **shika93 - AHHHHH IM GLAD TO HEAR THAT**_


	64. (LXIII) Inconspicuous Infiltration

_**SONG:**_ _Paint it Black by Ciara_

 _Fianna_

The final week of traveling had pushed the newfound crevice in Robb and Fianna's marriage to cracking point. The argument was petty and irrelevant, both were aware. But they were Northerners - stubborn was in their blood. Robb refused to take back his qualms about her state of mind, but his reservations were purely out of concern. Having teetered on the line between sanity and losing one's mind before, he didn't want his wife to suffer at the hands of her own mentality. Fianna, on the other hand, had been offended by his insinuations, thinking them to be accusatory rather than based on genuine concern.

For the night, they were situated along one of the rivers that led directly to Blackwater Bay. It was the eve before Fianna and her group of infiltrators would ride onward ahead of the vanguard for King's Landing, and they were no closer to reconciling their differences before night fell.

Seated on a rock next to the river, the only sounds other than lapping water she could hear was the scrapes of a rock against her blade. Fianna was attempting to sharpen it before the morning, the sword visibly losing its sheen and sharp edges from years of use.

"Usually it's me that's brooding on my lonesome," a deep voice sounded out from behind her, startling her enough to jump in her place, but she didn't turn to greet its owner. Fianna knew from the thickly accented voice it could only have been Jon, and if nothing else - his comment about brooding was surely definitive.

"Well we are cousins," she breathed a chuckle, setting down the rock and resting her hands on the hilt of Wolfsbane. "Perhaps we've finally found a common trait."

Jon nodded with a silent smirk, casting a thoughtful gaze out to the water before returning his eyes to Fianna as he sat alongside her.

"I would have thought if we had something in common it would be the dark curly hair," he shrugged, pushing his own Valyrian sword out of the way. "Or the beard."

"Oi," she shoved his shoulder, laughing all the same. It was rather peculiar how they looked so little alike, with eyes both equally grey and hair as dark as dirt. Then again, Jon's features were consistent with the Starks, while Fianna favoured her mother's lineage. If the Queen were to look like him, it would be rather worrisome considering her marriage to a Stark. Nevertheless, Jon didn't echo any of his true father's features at all it seemed. Even Fianna and Daenerys shared small similarities, such as their face shape and the curve of their lips. Whereas Jon had none.

Considering his discomfort upon learning his lover was actually his relative, perhaps that wasn't such a bad thing.

"I hear you and Robb are having a lover's quarrel," he waggled his eyebrows, giving her shoulder a light nudge with his own. Admittedly, his actions were rather off-putting for Fianna, who had never seen the man so comfortable around her. Jon was a rather stoic man - cool and collected and rarely showing his true emotions. Now, he was bantering with Fianna as if they were close friends.

"I know, you must think we're ridiculous," she sighed with a shake of her head, choosing to look down at the river in front of them. "Squabbling when we're about to head into a battle like love-stricken teenagers. I feel so foolish for it that I'd almost just march right up to him, tell him I'm done with playing around and kiss the life out of him."

"So why don't you?" He asked in confusion, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Incredulously, Fianna cast a glance at him. "When Ygritte died... she died thinking I didn't love her. That my time with the free folk meant nothing. That _she_ meant nothing. And then she was taken from me. I knew she was putting herself in danger when the free folk attacked Castle Black, but I never actually considered she'd end up dying. If you go into King's Landing tomorrow without sorting your differences and the Gods forbid something happens, you'll never forgive yourself."

Jon hadn't meant to scold her, but Fianna still felt embarrassed nonetheless. His words were heart-breaking to hear, and she could only imagine how frustrating it was for him to see Robb and herself at odds when he would give anything to get the opportunity to argue with Ygritte again. Perhaps it was a problem she suffered from for far too long, and she seemingly hadn't learnt her lesson from the Red Wedding. As Fianna's victories began to pile up, she had managed to somewhat convince herself that she and Robb would make it through anything. That they'd survive, no matter what.

Tiernan had been proof that their lives could be so easily torn away in the blink of an eye.

Inspired by Jon's words of wisdom, she stopped herself from shooting up and darting towards the camp - where she knew she would find Robb in his tent, pouring over letters. Before she could make things right with Robb, she had to make things right with Jon, first.

"Alright," she began, tucking her long hair behind her ears - making a mental note to consider a serious hair cut soon. It was simply becoming too thick and long to be in any way practical for battle. "I don't usually apologise for my actions. In truth, nobody stays around long enough for me to get the opportunity to. But I have been as unfair as much I have been fair as a Queen, and I want you to know that... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that Robb and I usurped you, I can't imagine the embarrassment placed onto you when you strode into Winterfell, believing everyone to be on your side. It wasn't until the dead were on us that I saw what you were seeing all along - we needed her."

Jon looked down at his lap after hearing her words, swallowing thickly. This time when he smiled politely, it was entirely forced. As much as he loved his brother, they _had_ embarrassed him. The years he had spent trumping his 'bastard' title felt completely inconsequential when he had walked into the Great Hall and noticed everyone was looking at him with disgust and disapproval. In that moment, he wasn't a great swordsman, or a dragonrider, or the Warden of the North as Daenerys had appointed him. He was Jon again, the bastard of Winterfell.

"It's alright," he forced the words out, nodding to her in an attempt at soothing her worries. "I know why you did it. Looking back on it, as much as I try to deny it I did put love before duty. I hadn't even realised at the time. The North was my duty, and what was between Daenerys and I was love. I'd imagine that influenced the decision."

"Still," Fianna insisted, grasping for his hand to force him to look toward her. "We should have spoken to you first, you know we should have."

"A head's up would have been nice," he breathed a laugh, soon having her chuckling alongside him. Jon was suddenly taken aback as the weight of an armour-cladden body suddenly flung itself at him, Fianna squeezing him tightly in a hug. The embrace was as uncharacteristic of her as it had been for him to joke around with his cousin. Getting over his initial shock, he began to hug her in return, genuine traces of a smile forming on his lips.

Letting go of the Targaryen heir, Fianna stood up straight and smiled as warmly as she knew how to. From now on, she was going to make her relationships with those around her a top priority. Seeing as Jon was the least close to her, she figured he was a good place to start.

Nodding in goodbye towards him, she rounded around the boulder and headed up the small hill towards the light of campfires, noting how dark the sky had become so early in the day. Fianna paused before disappearing from his eye-line entirely, turning to him with a thoughtful smile.

"Jon?" She called out, recapturing his attention. "If you don't want Daenerys, do tell her. She's a big girl, she can surely handle it. And she deserves to know. The period of time where Robb and I were unsure of our feelings toward each other were more difficult than the battles we found ourselves in."

Just as he had used his previous relationship to advise her on her marriage perils, Fianna used hers to help with his problems with Daenerys. Finally departing from the riverbanks, the Queen quickly made haste towards their shared tent.

* * *

 _Robb_

The flaps of the entrance opened with such force that the entire tent shook, prompting Robb to look up from the stack of scrolls wearily, relaxing a hair once he noticed it was only Fianna. He nodded once in greeting, determined to not give her the complete silent treatment on their final eve together before a battle.

"Fianna," he spoke shortly, before returning to the scroll in his hands. Robb could sense the woman approach him from the side, her eyes burning into the side of his face. Expecting an argument to erupt, he decided to keep his head forward and not spare her a glance.

Becoming impatient as he promptly ignored her, Fianna reached out for his bearded chin, dragging his face to look toward her. He was surprised to see that she was actually smiling when his eyes met her, not looking at him with contempt as he expected.

"I love you," Fianna spoke proudly, ironically pushing aside the pride that had prevented her from saying the same words for the past several days. The corners of Robb's lips lifted up into a smirk, shoulders visibly relaxing as he recognised the beginning of the tension between them lifting.

"Too late," he teased with a rising smirk, turning sideways to face her fully. "I've gone and found myself a new bride. She's a pretty little Southerner who doesn't speak. It's perfect."

"Is that right?" She smirked in return, placing her hands on his hips and bringing their bodies closer together. "That must be incredibly boring."

"Aye, but she's nowhere near as maddening as you," Robb confessed, tone light-hearted as he cupped his hands delicately around her neck. His touch became more forceful as he slid his fingertips into her hair, forcing her head back to stare up at him.

"Oh, how can I ever repay you for putting up with me?" She chuckled under her breath as his smirk gradually fell, expression becoming more intense as his gaze scraped over her features. The air had certainly shifted from playful - tension crackling between them like lightning.

"By shutting up," Robb amusedly raised his eyebrows, leaning in to close the distance between them and connect their lips in a kiss as heated as the flames of the candles surrounding the tent. The Queen's fingers slipped against the boiled leather covering his chest, trying to grasp onto it to clutch him tighter to her.

As their kiss deepened, Robb's hands slid further back until he was fully clutching her head to his - pouring a week's worth of frustration between the two into a kiss neither intended on parting from any time soon. Becoming frustrated with the leather armour coating his body, Fianna instead rolled onto her tiptoes and latched onto his reddened head of curls, their bodies flushed tightly together. Gathering the length of her hair around his fist, Robb dragged her head backward to slip his lips down to her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the delicate skin there.

Fianna's eyes fluttered closed as he focused on a particular spot beneath her jaw he knew well left her weak at the knees, his hands dropping her hair to focus on untying the knots holding her armour in place as best as he could without looking. Becoming frustrated, he practically growled as he was forced to lift his lips from her neck and remove her armour himself while the tension was still rife between them. Seizing the opportunity, Fianna followed his actions and took off his own armour with enough ferocity to break the tip of her fingernail. Once free from their restrictions and in nothing but their tunics, Robb gripped onto her thigh's and hoisted her up, her legs instantly moving to wrap around his waist.

Reattaching their lips, the King quickly began to walk toward the bed made up for them, tumbling forward with her underneath him and finishing what they had started.

* * *

Mindlessly, he trailed his finger along the entirety of her back - which was on display to him from the position she laid in, on his chest. Their bodies were still entirely nude, covered in a warm layer of heat that radiated from being in such close contact. The King traced random shapes along her spine while she curled against his body, her cheek directly above his heart.

"I hope you're with child again," Robb mused randomly, causing her body to freeze up. With widened eyes, she lifted her head up only enough to meet his gaze.

"For your sake, I hope not," she retorted with a scoff, laying back down and hearing the rumble of laughter in his chest through the ear pressed against his skin.

"I want a family as big as the one I grew up with," he grinned suddenly, images swirling in his mind of half a dozen mini-Starks roaming the courtyard of Winterfell. He was already dying to see how Aifric and Eddard would grow, even if it meant that he was losing their youth faster than he wanted. Would Aifric wield a sword like her mother and aunt? Would Eddard be as feisty as the Buas, or as cool as the Stark men? Would their appearance morph and favour one parent over the other? He couldn't wait to find out.

"Remember when we were reunited, at Winterfell?" Fianna seemingly changed the subject, sitting up and placing her hands on her chest to rest her chin on top.

"How could I forget?"

"Remember the arrow that pierced through my stomach?" She physically winced, recalling the horrific sensation of a foreign object impaled inside her organs. "I sometimes wonder if it did more damage than I thought."

"What do you mean?" He enquired, his hand reaching up to smooth away the crease of concern that had newly formed between her brows.

"You've been back a year and a half now," she sighed resolutely, eyes darting away from his piercing gaze. "I fell pregnant straight away after we were wed. You don't think it strange that it hasn't happened again?"

"If we were meant to have another child, we will," he smiled proudly, not at all affected by her worries. If it had come to it that Fianna truly was barren, she had already given him two beautiful children. It was the greatest gift she could ever have delivered to him.

"You sound like a poet," she rolled her eyes playfully, resting her head down again to enjoy the thumping of his heart beneath the shell of her ear.

"It matters little to me if you're able to bear another child or not," Robb confessed, pressing his lips against the top of her head lovingly. "It matters to me if you come back after tomorrow."

"I should be more concerned than you should be," Fianna chuckled, her hand resting on top of Robb's free one until he interlocked their fingers. "I am the 'Undefeated' after all."

"And I'm the Young Wolf!" He argued.

"And I'm the She Wolf!"

Her words effectively silenced him into quiet mirth, allowing himself to soak in feeling every aspect of her body against his. It was late into the night, and they should have been asleep if they hoped to approach the morning with a level head.

 _Wars be damned_ , Robb thought, _let me lay with my wife._

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you the other day," Fianna began suddenly, taking a deep inhale to steady herself. "I know you're only concerned about me, and I've probably given you reason to be."

"All I want is for us to be happy," Robb sighed, casting his gaze down to the brunette beauty sprawled against him. "Is that too much to ask, after all we've been through?"

"Careful now," Fianna snickered, tickling her fingers along Robb's chest. "You're starting to sound as moody as Jon."

"Take it back," he threatened after barking out a laugh.

"Not a chance!" She proclaimed, batting away his hands as he began to reach for her sides with the intentions of tickling her. "I'm your Queen! You can't touch me!"

"I'm your King," he fired back with an amused smirk, snickering as she slid across the bed to get away from him. "I can do what I like."

* * *

 _Fianna_

The infiltrators had gathered at the head of the camp in the early hours of the morning, awaiting Fianna's instructions as their new commander. Much of their armour was swapped for rags and tattered dresses, purposefully tailored to ensure they looked as lowborn as possible and therefore - less of a threat. All the ladies still carried weapons hidden on their person to protect themselves. Mainly daggers, that could be placed in their boots. Fianna and Arya felt particularly vulnerable without Wolfsbane and Needle, but their swords would be safely returned as soon as the fighting would begin.

All they had to do was wait for Daenerys to blow open the gates, where they would meet a footsoldier who carried all of their weapons inside a large sack.

"The town guard will be stationed by the gates," Fianna began, tugging the ratty cloak that hung on her shoulders closer around her. "He will be on the look out for anything suspicious, so we're entering in our assigned pair in intervals of twenty minutes. There is a influx of people from the surrounding areas fleeing to King's Landing for refuge, so as long as we do not draw attention to ourselves we will simply appear as mere commonfolk who are looking to escape any pillaging. You all have your maps, we will convene at the brothel as soon as you all make it through the gates."

The women nodded in understanding, pairing themselves off with whoever they had previously been assigned to. Fianna had strategically assigned partners according to both appearance and age, drawing together people who looked like they could be related to either pose as sisters or mothers with daughters. Arya had insisted on traveling alongside her good-sister, and assured Fianna that she wouldn't need to worry about being recognised by anyone.

"Ready to go?" A throaty voice sounded from beside Fianna as she retied the laces of her boots. Glancing upward in confusion, she was met with the image of an unfamiliar elderly woman, who looked far too old and incapable for a battle.

"May I help you?" Fianna asked kindly, standing up straight and putting on her best 'Queen' smile.

"You bloody twat," the woman replied coarsely, rolling her eyes at the Queen's ignorance. "It's Arya."

" _Oh_ ," Fianna nodded in realisation, a smirk of amusement forming at the image of her young good-sister now much older. She hadn't thought that Arya would be using her little 'trick' in their mission, but now having seen the full extent of her abilities knew that it would surely come in handy later on.

They were to venture inward first, leading the pack. Quickly falling into their new personas, Fianna grasped Arya's elbow to appear as if they were kin - a granddaughter merely helping her ill mother inside to safety. To really drive the nail home, the younger girl even slowed her step and hunched over - playing the part of an old woman beyond simply looking like one. Fianna was rather impressed.

The duo slipped through fairly unnoticed, as she had previously suspected. More commonfolk were flocking to the city than she would have guessed. With Fianna's healing chin mark and limp, and Arya's _everything_ , they looked entirely pathetic and benign. How wrong they were to underestimate the two.

The instant they escaped the droves of people diverging inward, Fianna dragged Arya towards a narrow alleyway that was empty aside from strewn baskets. The Queen tore the map from her pocket, eyeing it carefully as if she hadn't already memorised the route they were to take. Nodding to her good-sister, the brunette carefully folded the piece of paper into her pocket, before venturing off in the North-Easterly direction.

* * *

After the last women had successfully reached their reconnaissance point outside the brothel, Fianna held back a grin of achievement. All twenty of their infantry had made it, but infiltration was only the first phase.

Leading the way inside, she was immediately met with the Madam of the building. The woman was middle-aged, with long and thick blonde hair that brushed against her hips elegantly. The outfit she wore was rather revealing given the cooler air that had followed the Northern forces down to King's Landing, the curve of her breasts revealed in a plunging neckline. The Madam looked confused by the presence of Fianna and Arya, who had pointedly left the door open for the others to hear.

"I'm terribly sorry, this brothel is intended for... male guests, only," she grimaced apologetically, eyeing the two young women. Arya had shed the mask from her face moments before, glad to be free from the sagging skin and hunched over posture.

"No-" Fianna started to reply, feeling rather awkward about the woman's insinuations.

"Of course, even if it weren't all of our ladies are taken for the day!" She interrupted cheerily, eyes practically gleaming at the prospect of money. "It's the impending Siege, it has the men of King's Landing burning with lust."

Fianna sighed before lifting a nearby chalice and swinging it through the air, bashing it against the side of the Madam's head until she fell to the floor in a heap. At the sound of the bang and succeeding grunt, one of Fianna's ladies darted their head around the door with a fearful expression.

"Is she... dead, your Grace?" Leerie enquired, horror filling her voice at the prospect of her Queen committing cold-blooded murder.

"Hardly, she's only unconscious," Fianna shook her head, reaching into her pockets for a small sack that held five golden dragons inside. She carefully placed the bag next to the woman, hoping the whack would last long enough for them to retrieve the Wildfire and leave.

The Northern Queen stepped over the body with care, not seeking to do any more damage, before heading down the hallway with her soldiers at her back. Meanwhile, Leerie temporarily stayed behind to drag the Madam's body out of sight.

The rooms for the customers were clearly marked with a carving of a rose on the door, a bright red ribbon tied in a pretty bow around the door handle that showcased the room was occupied. Fianna bypassed all the rooms, hoping to find the Madam's own chambers or solar. Finally, at the very end of the hallway, there was a single door that didn't bear the markings of erotic instances. The brunette darted forward towards the handle, and immediately cursed upon realising it was locked.

"Here, my Queen," Leerie whispered, jogging up to meet her commander with a key in hand. "I found it on her person, thought it may come in useful."

Beaming with gratitude, Fianna stuck the key into the lock and sighed in relief as it fit perfectly - allowing the door to open and reveal the Madam's solar. Her grey eyes were swiftly drawn to a trapdoor in the ground that, with luck, would lead to the basement and therefore the Wildfire stash.

Within minutes, the small militia were gasping in shock at the sight of barrels dripping with a liquid as bright as the sun, and as green as grass. Like fire, the substance seemed to burn brightly without need for light. Transfixed, Fianna barely noticed the bucket extended towards her. As instructed, the ladies had scavenged for lidded buckets on their journey to the brothel.

"Alright my ladies," Fianna began, giving them all a sincere glance. "Fill your buckets up with care, I have no idea if this substance burns your skin with contact and I'd garner your husbands would kill me for marring their pretty wives."

* * *

 _Daenerys_

"Fianna has already set off?" Daenerys questioned sullenly, eyes fixing on the King in the North after his announcement. "I had hoped to wish her good fortune before she travelled on."

Robb never did answer her, simply returning his gaze to the view spread out before them. They were close enough to King's Landing now to see the high buildings in the distance and the Dragon Queen was tingling with excitement. It had been twenty four years since Daenerys Stormborn was ripped from Westeros alongside her remaining brother. Twenty four years since the Targaryens lost their birthright, and now the time had finally come to reclaim it.

The council group had assembled in the treeline for final reassurances before the Targaryen Queen would leave to mount Drogon and Robb, Jon and Grey Worm would advance their armies.

"To be clear once more," Tyrion sounded out, turning from the view to face his Queen. "The wildfire explosions are our signal to push forward, that is when Daenerys will destroy the Lion's gate for us to enter. It is imperative that is the first place you go, for the infiltrators will need the support immediately thereafter. I'd imagine the entire city will be on the hunt for them if they are not distracted by the armies advancing."

"What about the remaining scorpions?" Jon put forth, standing dutifully at his brother's side. He had already announced he wouldn't be riding Rhaegal through the city - something that had truly offended her. Dragons were in need of riders to be guided, and if Jon wasn't riding his - there's no telling that Rhaegal would successfully dodge incoming spears. "Surely not all would be destroyed by wildfire."

"If I may suggest," Tyrion turned back to Daenerys, a look in his eye she had come to recognise as a precursor for an incoming 'clever moment'. "I have read Targaryen history since I was a boy. I am well versed in their triumphs and battles, their dragons and their tactics. Fascinated, is a word I'd use. But I recall reading once about a popular tactic whereby dragonriders would use the glare of the sun to fly forth. Onlookers would be unable to see with the high brightness a dragon coming at the right angle."

Daenerys nodded, a smirk lifting the corners of her lips ever so slightly. There was the Tyrion she had entrusted to name her Hand.

"Your Grace," Varys murmured to her quietly, Missandei by his side wearing an expression of concern. "May we have a moment?"

The trio stepped further away from the others, stopping once they were out of hearing range. The blonde looked between her most trusted friend and the eunuch questioningly, wondering what could possibly be the matter when she was about to fly high into the biggest battle of her life.

"I've noticed you haven't been eating these last few days," Missandei admitted, worry lacing her voice as she regarded upon the dark circles underneath her Queen's eyes. Daenerys was pale. Paler than usual, that is.

"Perhaps you should have some bread before venturing forward," Varys suggested, although he was noticeably less perturbed than his companion.

"I can't run the risk of being poisoned when I'm this close to the throne," she explained coolly, giving Varys a pointed look. It wasn't that she expected Varys in particular, but with word having reached Tyrion about Jon's lineage - she was overly paranoid of everyone she had come to know. "It's impossible to tell who to trust in these crucial times."

"I see that you are eyeing me carefully, my Queen," he responded in an unaffected and calm manner, as if expecting her paranoia to be fixated on him. "I know that my reputation would have you fret over my intentions, but my intentions have always been for the good of the realm. Pending your actions in the upcoming battle, I have no reason to stray from my loyalty."

"I know that you know," Daenerys revealed, carefully watching for any hint of a reaction. Her efforts were futile - whether he knew or not, Varys was as good an actor as he was a secret-gatherer. "Perhaps it is Jon you see as the one who's good for the realm."

"Then prove me wrong," Varys fired back boldly, ignoring Missandei as she desperately looked between the two for an explanation. There was no one she trusted more than her Naath-born friend, but Daenerys felt too ashamed to discuss anything about the latest revelation. She wasn't sure how her best friend would have reacted once she found out her relationship was incestuous, and that she had hailed herself the heir to the Seven Kingdoms for years when she had been mistaken.

Varys promptly walked away from the conversation once he saw that Daenerys didn't have a reply for him, a confident sway in his step that showed he was unafraid. He knew what she would do if he betrayed her - she had told him herself before. Fire and blood, is what she would have.

"My Queen," Missandei spoke up, deciding her questions about Jon could wait until later. With a polite smile, she stepped forward until they were facing each other. "I would like to ask something of you before you fly on."

"What is it?" She replied, her expression instantly morphing from stoic to warm. Missandei had a presence that could only be directly compared to the warmth of the sun.

"If, Gods forbid, this battle is not won," she started, somewhat hesitant. "I was wondering if perhaps you would like to return to Meereen, or another city overseas that you could more easily use your armies to free from tyrants. I have seen Westeros take so much from you, I would be broken if it were to take your life as well."

Daenerys simply smiled in response, stepping forward and tugging the taller woman into a farewell hug. Missandei had been by her side through almost everything, she couldn't bear to lie to her now, for if she agreed it would have been exactly that - a lie.

Once they seperated, she had ventured to return towards the Stark brothers with the intentions of speaking with the King in the North - but she was disrupted by the one who she had wanted to speak with the least.

"Dany," Jon greeted, appearing somewhat nervous about whatever he had come to approach her with.

"Why won't you ride Rhaegal?" She demanded, getting straight to the point.

"I-..." he cut himself off, looking back over his shoulder to see Robb waiting patiently for his return. He took a moment to contemplate before speaking again. "When I was in the Night's Watch, I had ran away one night after hearing Robb had called his banners to avenge our father. I wanted to fight beside him, but my oaths brought me back to Castle Black. At that point in time, I wasn't a Stark, I was a member of the Night's Watch. For the years after, I regretted it. Especially when I broke my vows afterward for much less. When I thought him dead at the Red Wedding, I cried and cursed myself - thinking he would be alive if I had only joined him. When I rode your dragon by your side against the Night King, I wasn't a Stark, I was fulfilling the Targaryen blood that runs in my veins. But now, it doesn't matter that I'm Rhaegar's son and not Eddard's. It doesn't matter that my last name is either Snow or Targaryen. It doesn't matter that Robb is my cousin and not my brother - because I'm a Stark. And I am going to fight by his side, as I should have done all those years before."

Daenerys had been stunned into silence, an ebb of sympathy rising in her chest for the man in front of her. This was one of the reasons she had fallen so hard and fast into love for Jon Snow. Even if she was unsure of his feelings any longer, she was most certainly sure of her own.

"I bid you good luck, Jon Snow," she responded after a moment, her voice thick with emotion. Swiftly, she turned before he could see the glistening in her eyes as she set off towards her dragon. Daenerys approached Drogon with a heavy sensation in her heart that juxtaposed the excitement she had felt the hour before, for she approached the dragon to ride off alone - as she always had.

* * *

 _ **The next one is the big one, I hoooope to God you like it! I also have an important question for everyone.**_

 _ **I know a lot of people are unhappy with Jon's ending in the show because it didn't give him a true purpose, nor did it mention why the writers even made him a Targaryen if it amounted to nothing after all that. SO.**_

 _ **I have an idea for a sort of mini-sequel after this book, focused on Aifric and Jon (not as a couple obviously). It'll be set 12 years in the future and I have a good solid idea for the storyline (I can't give too much away without spoiling this book), that would tie up the loose ends about Jon's purpose, the White Walkers and Aifric (because she too has a purpose in all of this). It'll only be about ten chapters, and obviously everyone who survives this book would be in it too but I'll only do it if people would be interested in reading it so please PLEASE comment telling me if it's something you'd like to read or not!**_

 _ **Guest - You SHOULD be nervous muahahah**_

 _ **Guest - I obviously won't say who her name is but kudos for thinking that Fianna is too obvious ; )**_

 _ **Scoob96 - The argument didn't really seem to go anywhere because Robb hasn't seen the true extent of Fianna's bloodlust after the Red Wedding. For him, he's only seeing a glimpse of it. It would have gone further had it been Tiernan who approached her about it, and he once did in a previous chapter. That is a fair point about Robb offering to set off wildfire, but I'm going to respectfully disagree again about your comment with regards to soldiers being easily recognised. Sandor not being pinpointed is another weakness in the show's plot, and like I said I have done extensive research about Sieges to make these chapters as realistic as possible. I'm not claiming to be a better writer than D+D, but it is a historical fact that town guards did look out for anyone who looked out of place and therefore Sandor should have been pinpointed easily. As much as I love Arya, the Night King's death did feel a little out of place and I actually do wish I had rewritten that episode more than I had now that I'm continuing on, but the plans I have in the future are hopefully setting that right, *wink*. I agree with the Mad Queen thing! I don't mind that being Dany's arc if the buildup was more believable. Respectfully, I think you might have misunderstood the last scene in the chapter. Daenerys didn't name Fianna as her heir. She never actually explicitly named anyone, and only used the pronoun 'she' to suggest it was a woman - which could mean anyone from Fianna to Yara Greyjoy at this point. As for Robb and Fianna's argument, yes they have been married for a long time but they are far from a perfect marriage and they spent half that time apart. It could be said that given the time they've actually been together they're actually still in fairly early years of marriage, and therefore haven't reached the level of maturity a couple like Catelyn and Ned would have. It's also a little hard to include fluffy moments now, because any time I've had you seem to have implied it comes off a little forced as 'relationship goals'. I'll admit, writing a couple like Robb and Fianna is getting increasingly difficult because they're both such strong characters by themselves, and the plot isn't about them falling in love any more. They're already in love and married. There are no obstacles to overcome to reach that point. The only moments they're going to share are fairly minor, which might seem a little underwhelming compared to the first half of the book but their relationship development has reached its pique and it can only be refined from here on out.**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - She named SOMEONE her heir but I won't say who ; ) so glad you liked that chapter! Hope you like this one too!xx**_

 _ **LazyPurpleOwl - Awww thank you! I hope these final few chapters make you satisfied because I really am taking every prophecy and every fault with the shows ending and changing it, I literally have this book in my head ALL the time I can't think about anything else rn. Hope you like what's to come and have a lovely day! x**_

 _ **zemblenity - Bran is WILDIN, and I still love Daenerys with all my heart I don't care what anyone says : (**_

 _ **Guest - I think so too, like I think her burning the Tarlys could even be somewhat explainable as a human reaction but I get why people draw the line at King's Landing**_

 _ **Guest - Thank you! x**_


	65. (LXIV) The Three Queens

_**SONG:**_ _Counting Bodies Like Sheep by A Perfect Circle_

 _Fianna_

The guards along the wall weren't at all suspicious when it came to pretty ladies carting baskets of food for them to divulge in.

The squadron of twenty had been divided into their pairs once more, filling twenty baskets with wildfire and twenty baskets with fruit stolen from the locals. In cases where their thievery was caught in the act, Fianna would pay the merchant for the fruit. The food was purely distraction, with the Northern Queen believing her ladies to be less suspicious when one of their baskets were without lids - ripe and juicy fruit visibly poking out the top.

Pairs were tasked with approaching the commanding guard at divisions along the wall, giving the excuse that they wanted to 'gift the men protecting their city'. One woman carted the fruit, the other holding the wildfire. Both partners were then told to distract the guards from opening the baskets, which would be placed as close as possible to the scorpions. When the signal would sound - the chime of the city's bells that rang once every hour, the wick would be lit and the ladies would have approximately two minutes to get out of dodge.

Five of the guards allowed them past without question, three guards required a little persuasion and two outright refused to allow anyone climb to the top of the wall. For one of the two that rejected them, Arya stepped up to the plate - her evasive hidden talent coming to light as she shifted into a guard the commander would recognise.

"I can't go up with you," Fianna sighed impatiently, eyes anxiously darting around the alleyway in fear of getting caught. "You have to be careful."

"Save your doting for your husband," she smirked teasingly, voice sounding more provocative coming from the guard she had killed and now somehow possessed the appearance of. With that final comment, Arya hauled one basket in hand and a bucket of arrows in the other. Just to add to the effect. It wouldn't be enough - of course. Fianna truly hadn't expected Cersei Lannister to have placed quite so many scorpions along the wall.

She estimated there were around forty to fifty in total, her group of infiltrators would only manage to knock out about nine. Perhaps eighteen, if the blasts were powerful. Fianna had never worked with the substance before, and had no idea how expansive its combustion would be.

Fianna Stark hated King's Landing, she decided. It was the biggest place she had ever visited in her life, but it was rife with squalor. The smell of shit lingered in the air, probably due to the fact that the contents of chamber pots filled with waste were not buried as they had been back in Winterfell - but rather thrown out windows onto the street below. Why anyone would _want_ to rule the city, she'd never understand. For a place as hot as it was, it lost the charm and warmth that the Northern towns possessed.

Inching her hand down, Fianna whipped out the dagger from her boot, allowing her ragged cloak to fall from her shoulders onto the pavement below. It was only a matter of minutes before all hell broke loose, and she longed for her longsword in hand.

"Oi!" A male called from behind her, voice echoing through the narrow walkway. Promptly, Fianna turned around, shoulders relaxing when she saw it was only a lone soldier. And a rather young one at that. "What you doin' with that knife?"

"What are _you_ doing with that knife?" She fired back, nodding towards the sword latched at his hip, which his hand was shakily clasped around the hilt of.

"I'm a soldier, what's your excuse?" Even his voice sounded young, too young to be wearing armour and waiting to fight in this war.

"Maybe I am too," she shrugged, daring to take a step towards him. Her eyes calculated his every movement, pondering why a boy as young would be as foolish to lay his life down for Cersei Lannister. "How old are you, boy?"

"I'm not a boy, I'm ten-and-four," he retorted with a scoff, as if it made him more mature. "And you can't be a soldier, look at you!"

Rolling her eyes to the Heavens, Fianna marched up to the boy and shot her good leg out to kick his hand when he made a move for his blade.

"Ouch!" The boy cried out, clutching his pained hand with his other one. Using it as a distraction, Fianna reached for the top of his breastplate and dragged him forward until he was right on her front, her free hand grappling for his scabbard and whipping out his sword. His expression morphed into one of shock at how easily he had been overpowered, and by a woman no less.

"What's a boy of ten-and-four doing fighting for Cersei Lannister? Go home to your mother," Fianna grumbled, holding onto his sword and mentally claiming it as her own. He gulped at the sight of her holding his only weapon, darting his eyes back up to her face which was no less threatening.

"I-I was drafted by the Queen, I'm doing this to _protect_ my mother! The foreign bitch will come and burn us all, I heard about her father!" he stammered, but Fianna was left admiring how brave he forced himself to sound. Even if it made him entirely foolish.

"If anyone's going to kill the innocent people of King's Landing, it'll be Cersei," she cocked an eyebrow, shoving him backward until he slipped back and fell on his backside. "You know this war isn't going to go your way. Go home."

"I might not be the best at combat," the boy scrambled to get back onto his feet, face beet read from embarrassment and hands balled by his waist. "But they wouldn't let me use my bow and arrow on the wall, that's what I'm best at, so it is! So give me my sword back, I have nothing else!"

Giving him another once-over, the Queen pondered about the boy's background, wondering if it were as tragic as he looked. Judging by the clean scar that ran from the corner of his lip to his ear, she wondered if it had been his father. It was certainly a blade that had inflicted the damage, that much was true.

"You support the enemy, don't you?" he spat furiously, meeting her gaze with absolute disgust.

"No," Fianna replied innocently, barely flinching as a loud explosion ripped through the air. Instead, the corners of her lips tilted upward ever so slightly when a train of explosions began to follow - nothing but screams in the distance following afterward. "I _am_ the enemy."

As the deafening booms began to reach closer and closer to them, the boy was left with no other option but to dart in the opposite direction. When he disappeared around the corner and out of sight, Fianna finally turned back to the section of wall behind her, noticing that a disguised Arya was now sprinting down the stairs after having shoved a man clean off of the side. Clearly, she was choosing to depart from being stealthy.

"Run, just fucking run!" Arya roared down to Fianna below as the Northern Queen exited the alleyway to greet her. The shout had garnered the attention of the guard who had previously denied them entry, taking a step toward the escaping Stark girl. Reacting quickly, Fianna shot forward and buried her stolen sword just underneath his helm until it re-emerged through his mouth, a gargling noise following as he choked on his own blood.

The second Fianna ripped the sword out, the guard slumped forward lifelessly and hit the ground with a resounding smack. When the brunette looked up again, Arya had rid herself of her disguise and was now the same girl she had known for nigh on six years now.

"I think we used too bloody much," Arya fretted, closing the gap between them with widened eyes. "I saw one of the other explosions take out _three_ scorpions."

"Let's go, we've got to get to the gate to greet the others," Fianna gushed in one breath, grabbing for the smaller girl's hand in an attempt to drag her in the right direction. But Arya swiftly ripped her hand out of her hold, stepping back and looking to her with a determined expression when Fianna glanced back. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not leaving without killing her," Arya shook her head, slowly beginning to walk backwards. "Cersei has to die."

"Arya, don't be a bloody twat," Fianna spit angrily, looking frantically back over her shoulder for anyone approaching. "The entire city will be on the lookout for us, you can kill her when we capture her."

"You think the Dragon Queen will let _me_ get to kill her?" Arya scoffed disbelievingly. "Go to the gates, I'll see you when this was all done."

"No, Arya-" Fianna tried to protest, but the brunette had already began to sprint off in the wrong direction. Conflicted, she looked back towards the alleyway that was on the road to her escape. The other ladies knew to race back to the gates regardless of whether she was there or not, assuming they'd be separated anyway.

A squadron of the Golden Company was at the gates, waiting for the armies on the other side of the gate to breach it and start to invade. Fianna imagined the archers along the wall would already have started shooting off arrows at her men in retaliation for the wildfire, but the high-pitched scream of a dragon in the far distance - followed by another sound that was similar to the explosions, told Fianna that Daenerys had breached the gates.

The Unsullied, Dothraki and Northerners would be invading King's Landing right now. She'd have been safer if she joined them, safety in numbers and all that. But a quick glance back to the girl in the distance who hurdled over baskets as she sprinted her way towards the Red Keep, reminded her there was no way she could let Arya Stark die.

Letting out a short scream of frustration, Fianna chased after, determined to keep her safe along the way.

* * *

 _Robb_

Before the explosions had ripped through the city, disrupting the quiet but tense atmosphere that preceded it, Robb Stark had stood still alongside his brother facing the gates. The archers along the wall had lowered their bows after a while, arms straining from keeping their arrows knocked. Both sides were waiting for an incident that would start the war - the drawing of one's sword, a foot out of line.

The disruption came in the form of several booming noises that practically shook the city, clouds of green-coloured fire rising from points along the wall that the Northern brothers could see in the distance. The infiltrators had been successful, although the King hadn't quite expected them to use so much. He only hoped all the Northern ladies had escaped in time before the blast could affect them, that they anticipated the radius of the fire.

The blasts were the exact precursor the Lannister guards were searching for - their arms rising almost immediately and pinpointing faces in the vast army before them they intended to take out.

"Shields up!" Robb roared to the Northern army at his back, the arms that were latched into a shield immediately flying up to block any incoming arrows before they could make contact with a fatal area. The flurry of arrows lasted for a few minutes, but their army did not attempt to advance further. Peaking lowly underneath the direwolf shield that protected his head, Robb could see the commander along the wall hold up his fist to stop the onslaught, looking on at the vanguard in confusion as to why they hadn't attempted to advance yet. Boldly, the Northern King lowered his shield slightly - until he caught the commander's attention.

The two war lords stared at one another tensely, before Robb tilted his head back and glanced up to the skies above. The action encouraged his opponent to follow suit, looking up at the glare of the sunlight. Temporarily blinded with its brightness, he angled his forearm up to block it ever so slightly. The Lannister commander almost turned to face the enemy army once more, in case it had been some form of a trick, but the slightest of flickers in the light of the sun gave him pause. Before his brain could truly comprehend the increasing diameter of the dark spot, it was now hurtling too close for him to fully shout in warning.

"Incoming!" He shouted at the top of his voice, for all nearby to hear, as a truly massive dragon was suddenly in their eye line. Guards along the wall scrambled for the remaining scorpions, but their design was too flawed to be of any use to them at that moment. The time it took to set the bolts, along with the fact it took five guards to man a single scorpion, meant their attempts were truly futile.

Nevertheless they rotated their wheels and drew back the latches, only for them to fly backward in horror as the dragon opened its mouth and blew a breath of fire that obliterated anyone and anything in the vicinity with which it was aiming at. Those that survived, didn't the second time when another dragon had suddenly appeared and completed the same maneuver as its predecessor. Within seconds, Drogon and Rhaegal had obliterated all of the West-facing wall, leaving nothing barring the combined Northern, Unsullied and remaining Dothraki forces to launch the invasion. And with many scorpions already blown up by the infiltrators, nothing was stopping Daenerys from taking her two dragons and sailing straight toward the Iron Fleet.

Robb imagined the Dragon Queen wouldn't have much trouble - however prepared Cersei was for two dragons and an army to attack the city, it still wasn't enough. All he could do was focus on the Golden Company troops that now faced them, having been safely hidden behind the now destroyed wall. Tearing his sword from his waist and holding it high in the air, he swung it in a single downward swoop that set off the Northern army to follow at his tail and sprint towards the city. Despite having been reluctant to engage in the battle to begin with, which many Northerners had made clear to Robb since setting off from Winterfell, there was no complaints from any man or woman that day. They were lusting for a battle as much as Daenerys' army was, feeding off the adrenaline from it. Many Northerners still harboured a resentment for the Lannisters after Ned's death and the Red Wedding, this was their time to put the lion down once and for all.

The remaining Dothraki were small in numbers, but each warrior accounted for five sellswords in battle. They took the lead on horseback, making a significant dent in the front line of the Golden Company. Although Robb was disconcerted - the army in front of him would be obliterated before the hour was up. Even though many on their own side was just after recovering from injuries, they probably outnumbered the sellswords by a ratio of three-to-one. It wasn't supposed to be this easy.

"Jon," Robb called out as they finally reached the thick of the battle, clutching their swords and slaying the stragglers that had escaped the Dothraki and Unsullied's wrath. "Keep an eye out for sneak attacks, there's bound to be more of them out there and they know the city better than we do!"

"Aye!" Jon shouted in agreement, his glaringly beautiful Valyrian sword beheading a man in one single swoop.

"And keep an eye out for the girls!" he continued, hoping that wherever Fianna and Arya were, that they were closer to them than he could have guessed. The entire city would be on the lookout for the infiltrators - soldiers and commoners alike. He only hoped they'd reach the Northerners in time to regain their primary weapons.

* * *

 _Daenerys_

A sort of cool indifference had settled over Daenerys, as it always had when she believed she was carrying out justice. The Iron Fleet were less surprised by her incoming than the guards along the wall were, but she couldn't let losing the element of surprise stop her. A single misstep could be deadly, and Drogon had once been shot before by one of those dastardly bolts. She flew high and straight until she reached the bay, where the ships had gathered in wait of her arrival. The second the ships came into view, she dramatically reeled to one side while Rhaegal fled to the other, a flurry of bolts just missing the two dragons.

One thing Tyrion said that stuck in her mind was that he had noticed the scorpions took longer to reload than it took her to fly elsewhere, which was the one fatal flaw in their makeup that she could milk to her advantage. Thankfully, Fianna had ensured the majority of her wildfire traps were exploded along the Eastern wall facing the bay, so she wouldn't have to worry about looking twice over her shoulder.

Veering to the left, Daenerys muttered the word that unleashed a fiery cloud that skimmed the ships along the edge of the fleet, taking out around seven ships in a single dragon's breath. For a split second, she chanced a glance at Rhaegal to ensure he too was keeping along the edges of the boats and not directly over. Silently, she cursed Jon Snow for refusing to ride her second dragon, leaving him massively vulnerable. She couldn't watch over both herself, Drogon and Rhaegal all at the one time.

Believing Fianna held some sound advice about dodging arrows in a battle, although the bolts aiming for her weren't quite as dainty, Daenerys had approached the Queen in the North days before for potential tips that would help her evade the line of fire. From their discussion, she deduced that there was one thing the Dragon Queen could never commit to doing - flying in a straight line. Heeding her niece's words, Daenerys swooped up and down as she took out the ships, never staying at the same altitude above the ground and never flying in the same direction. 'Zig-zagging', was the term she believed Fianna had used. Although the erratic movements had slowed her down considerably, it was allowing Daenerys to wipe out half the fleet by the time they had set their fourth bolts in place.

But it was still too early to celebrate, and from the few and far between looks she could afford to spare toward Rhaegal, the dragon simply didn't know to follow the same evasive tactics she had. Not only did her green-tinted child not 'zig-zag' but his wing was still in the midst of healing. Daenerys wondered if he'd ever regain the hole that had been split into his skin. Once more, she cursed Jon.

Where there had been approximately forty ships at the beginning, now only remained around ten to fifteen - which two dragons were more than enough for setting alight. With the corners of her lips quirking ever so slightly, Daenerys encouraged Drogon to tilt sideways through the air enough to leave her clutching at his back, desperately trying not to fall off but successfully dodging another bolt that was coming her way. As Drogon settled into equilibrium again, she dashed in a downward swoop that sent her on course for the nearest boat. Her calculating blue eyes remained fixed on the scorpion, ensuring she wasn't too far away to be in danger if it had suddenly turned toward her. Curiously, the scorpion wasn't pointed in her direction at all, but rather in the complete opposite way. The man operating it was even more peculiar, as he was still looking towards Drogon despite not aiming at him. She couldn't see from such a distance, but she just _knew_ this man was grinning.

"No!" She gasped in realisation, leaning her back further down in the hopes it would encourage Drogon to travel faster toward the ship. Daenerys almost screamed as the man whipped his hand up and sent a bolt whipping through the air towards Rhaegal, who was also flying directly for the same ship Daenerys was. She allowed herself to relax a hair when she saw the other dragon swerve in the opposite direction and stop the bolt from imbedding in his chest. Although the turn Rhaegal chose to make was entirely the wrong one, she soon learned, as the remaining dozen ships had also turned completely away from Daenerys while she was distracted to all pick the same target.

Six projectiles launched simultaneously at Rhaegal, and even though only half met their target, it was effective. The first hit the green dragon's side, slowing him down considerably but not enough to stop him. After all, Drogon had been hit once in the same area, and dragon's chests were known to be the toughest of all creatures skins. The next one implanted in the crook of his wing where it attached to his body, leaving him with only one wing to stay in the air, flapping desperately. But the final bolt proved to be the one that stopped Rhaegal once and for all - launching itself straight through his neck in a precise shot that would only have been possible because of the other two preceding bolts.

Daenerys let out a heartbroken cry as Rhaegal twirled through the air lifelessly, his body smacking against the water with enough backsplash to overturn one of the remaining ships entirely. Her body seemed to work purely on instinct while she sobbed, chest heaving as she once again used the inefficient reloading to her advantage. It was the first time that day that the Queen ignored Fianna's advice about travelling in a single line.

The dragon beneath her pelvis was as affected as she was, leading Drogon to completely obliterate all of the remaining fleet in the longest and most powerful explosion of dragon's breath she had ever seen him emit. While her whimpers had swiftly turned into a battle shout of rage, tears still leaked from the Dragon Queen's eyes. The only thing stopping her from settling Drogon down somewhere safe and allowing herself a moment of mourning for her child was the rage that had bubbled within her, a thirst for revenge like no other that didn't cease even after the bay was now void of ships. The Iron Fleet was truly gone.

Daenerys didn't stop for a break as she had prepared to before arriving, continuing to circle Drogon back to the city to take out the remaining Scorpions that resided along the North and South wall.

* * *

 _Cersei_

"Look who managed to breach the Red Keep," Qyburn snidely remarked as he entered the Queen's chambers, Cersei still keeping her eyes fixed on the city beneath her. The scorpions were gone, for as far as she could see. The trick the enemy pulled with wildfire had caught her off guard admittedly, but not enough to cause her worry. The Red Keep wouldn't fall today, and she still had a few cards up her sleeve to put forth. Patiently, her Hand waited for her response, lightly clearing his throat to regain her attention.

With an impatient sigh, Cersei turned toward the trio that were now in the same room. Qyburn and Gregor she had expected to see, but she was certainly surprised to notice her twin was now present as well - forced onto his knees by the Mountain. She thickly swallowed, left eye twitching as she tried to quell her rising anger. The father of her child had not only abandoned her, but had also joined forces with the enemy. Of all those she had expected to betray her, Jaime was not one of them. And even now, after all he had done, she despised herself for the relief that flooded her body upon seeing he was alive and that Bronn hadn't lived up to his mission.

"Have you jumped back to another Queen then? Perhaps we should call you Queenjumper instead of Kingslayer," Cersei remarked, knowing that her use of his most hated nickname would offend him. "First I heard you followed the Dragon Queen, then it was the Northern bitch, now here you are. Unless of course, you've come to me on their behalf."

"Robb Stark and the Targaryen have joined forces-" he attempted to say, but even the mere sound of his voice only drove home the dagger he had put through her heart when he abandoned her.

"I know that," the blonde hissed, unable to bear looking at him any longer as she turned back to window and the bustling city beneath, "you think I wouldn't know that?"

"You always were one step ahead," he coughed, obviously having been roughly handled by the Mountain after his capture.

"Where is the other dragon?" Cersei prompted, obviously aiming her question at the Hand of the Queen as she ignored her fallen twin, who had began to beg for a private conversation with her.

"Your grace," the elder man hesitantly replied, "perhaps we should discuss these matters without the traitor-"

"He'll be dead before the battle is done," she interrupted, voice cool and detached as she turned to meet his burning gaze. A spark of fear flashed in Jaime's eyes, but she wouldn't let it deter her. Not today. Qyburn glanced between the siblings worriedly, but continued on with updates of the city regardless. The Queen was tense today, he didn't want to push her.

"The second dragon was killed by Euron Greyjoy's fleet," Qyburn admitted, somewhat reluctant to complete the sentence and reveal that it was not as good of news as she expected. Cersei could see for herself that their wall defences were gone, but that wasn't the only thing that had been obliterated.

"Good," she smiled slightly, chest puffing up with pride. "He killed one, he can kill another."

"Your grace," he began, stopping to grimace at the situation. Any concern or fear Cersei should have had, Qyburn _did_ have. "The Iron Fleet is gone, and I believe Euron himself is likely to be dead."

Her shoulders visibly tensed at the news, the slightest of curves that resided in the corners of her lips immediately falling until her expression was stony. Cersei blinked after a couple of seconds, taking a deep inhale and reminded herself that this was not the end. It couldn't be.

"Well, that wasn't our final trick, was it?" She quirked an eyebrow, grasping for the chalice of wine on the table by her side and lifting it to her lips. Cersei wasn't concerned about drinking the beverage today of all days. A maester had once told her one cup of wine a day wouldn't harm her babe, and she was holding him to that.

* * *

 _Fianna_

As if she had been wearing a proverbial mask before the wildfire explosions that hid her identity, any chance for elusiveness was gone now. Whether it was the sword in her hand, or the metal breastplate covering her chest that revealed itself after her cloak had fallen - Fianna was finding it increasingly difficult to hide from the Lannister soldiers and commonfolk alike. The majority of non-combatants had hid away within their homes, hoping the battle wouldn't affect them. Some stragglers had taken up arms, feeling inspired by Cersei's propaganda about the malicious Targaryen invader and the Northern barbarians.

The fact Fianna was a woman was the factor that convinced many she was an enemy - only the North allowed women in the army. For a woman in King's Landing to don armour and a sword would be practically unheard of. For a city considered to be the center point of the Seven Kingdoms, Fianna believed it to be rather regressive.

Arya had shot off like an arrow up ahead, jumping over strewn wheelbarrows with precision and slaying any lone soldiers even if they hadn't approached her. She was taking no chances - no one would stop her on her way to the Red Keep. It was likely she knew that Fianna's leg was keeping the Bua woman from catching up to her, but she didn't care to wait. For all she knew, the Queen was going to attempt to stop her from continuing.

"Arya!" Fianna hollered, stopping mid-step to slash the throat of a local merchant who had been chasing after her bravely. The Stark daughter either truly hadn't heard her, or was ignoring the call. The blood raced through Arya's body and left her with goosebumps, she had never come so close to enacting revenge for her father. It was truly a long time coming. The gates of the Red Keep came into view, a flood of people desperately trying to flee inside for safety. The brunette shoved through them mercilessly, knocking away anyone that was preventing her from advancing.

In the distance, the bells of the city rang out - signalling the supposed end of the battle before it had even truly begun. Confused, Fianna cast a glance over her shoulder at the influx of innocent men, women and children as they carted scarce belongings on their person. Equal looks of relief were on their faces as there seemed to be a momentary pause in the rush of the crowd. Looking forward again, she saw that Arya too had froze in place, expression twisted with uncertainty. They themselves had caught a glimpse of the size of the Golden Company - it had given them cause for concern about the strength of their own army. It surely wasn't over that quick.

As the crowd fell quiet, silently elated that the battle hadn't been too bloody, a low rumbling could suddenly be heard throughout the area, although it didn't seem to be that close. The sound grew over the span of a few seconds before erupting into an ear-splitting explosion in the far distance, causing all of the crowd - including Fianna and Arya, to duck in sheer terror with their hands over their head.

The second she was sure the danger wasn't immediate, Fianna stood up and whipped around on the spot, desperately searching for the cause of the explosion. She half-contemplated for a split second that perhaps it was Daenerys, that for some unknown reason the Targaryen had decided to ignore the bells of surrender to burn something or someone. But a massive cloud of green fire swirling through the air of a building in the distance told her it was something far more horrifying than that.

Another explosion soon followed, this one even closer and causing the mass of people to erupt in blood-curdling screams of terror. The crowd pulsed forward to the gates, any gaps between people immediately filling as they desperately tried to reach safety. Against her better judgement, Fianna ran forward as well - partly because she didn't want to be crushed, and mainly because she knew it truly was the only safe place. Those around her believed this was her doing, that these were more explosions that the enemies had let off and would surely be blamed for. But Daenerys and Robb would never have agreed to letting off wildfire in the vicinity of innocent people - there was only one ruler that would do such a thing.

And that ruler had just led them all right into a trap.

In the far distance, Fianna could see the guards desperately trying to close the gates to save themselves and those inside the Red Keep, but Arya was so much further ahead. The only thing holding the vast doors open was the swell of the crowd that still rushed inside, but it was only a matter of seconds before the guards would close it anyway - uncaring about who they were crushing.

Further ahead, Arya was grunting as bodies piled around her. Once or twice, she had stepped on something hard and crunchy - likely people that had fallen to the ground and were unable to stand from the rush of people. She was so close to making it inside she could practically smell the scented oils of Jasmine and Lavender that the castle hall's reeked of - the memory of it as profound in her mind as the day her father died. She knew exactly how she would reach the Queen too, recalling the tunnels she once scurried through like a stray cat. Only now she wasn't playing, or escaping.

As another burst of wildfire erupted, each one closer than the last, the guards cowardly began to close the doors to the Red Keep, causing the crowd to become even more packed together as the people who had almost made it were pushed back out. Still, she pushed onward - until a hand grasped the scruff of her neck and hauled her out of the thick of the crowd.

"Let me go!" She roared flailing her limbs and desperately trying to see behind her to catch a glimpse of the person who had taken her. Stringy, sandy-coloured hair and a charred face soon confirmed that it was Sandor who had once again ripped her away from potential danger - this time, asphyxiation being the cause.

The Hound continued to haul her sideways, dragging her toward a nearby alleyway and practically tossing her against the brick wall. Fearfully, he looked around their surroundings, hoping that one of the nearby buildings wasn't about to explode as well. But it was unlikely Cersei Lannister would have proposed to set one off so close that it could potentially damage the Red Keep walls.

"Go home, girl," he commanded forcefully, a heavy set to his shoulders. Something told Sandor this would be the last time they would see each other and as truly strange as their bond was, he was saddened by the thought.

"No," Arya rejected, fighting against the grip he placed on her arms. "I'm going to kill the Queen!"

"Look around you!" he boomed to get her attention, startling the Stark girl into staring at him open-mouthed, "the city is about to burn, it won't be long before the Dragon rides straight for the Red Keep to flame her out of it. She's dead. You'll be dead too if you don't get out of here."

Stubbornly, she whipped down and out of his grasp, although Arya still remained facing him to hear what he had to say.

"I've been after revenge all my life, it's all I care about, and look at me- _look at me_!" he roared again in that voice that would frighten anyone after she cast her attention to the doors of the Red Keep - now fully shut. "You wanna be like me? Because if you come with me, you die here."

Sandor, in a gesture that immediately reminded her of her father, cupped his hand around the back of her neck and proceeded to point at the Bua woman, who was fighting tooth and nail to escape from the cramped horde of people to make her way towards the two.

"You have a family, and I never had," he spoke with a tone of finality, dropping his hand from her head and leaving Arya's mind reeling as he shoved off and started to speed-walk in the opposite direction. The Stark daughter had never felt much sympathy for Sandor Clegane before now, but seeing his retreating figure as he walked towards what would surely be his death - she couldn't help it.

"Sandor!" she shouted, grabbing his attention just as he almost disappeared around a corner into one of the many tunnels he knew would end up on the other side of the Red Keep's wall. "Thank you."

The Hound never did reply, only inhaled deeply and gave the slightest of nods before jetting off out of sight. Arya had once promised to put a sword through Sandor Clegane's head, and meant it when she said it. But perhaps in the times they spent together he was the one preventing one from going through hers.

"You little _bitch_ , Arya," a familiar voice hissed from behind her, Fianna gripping onto her arm forcefully and beginning to drag her away from the alleyway in a half-run. "I'm not dying in this shithole so let's go!"

* * *

 _ **There's only one Mad Queen that would kill innocents and that's Cersei Lannister sorry bout it !**_

 _ **Sorry the full battle wasn't in this chapter but honestly so much is going down in this one and it's already 6000, and there's still much more to happen**_

 _ **Also, I'm so sorry about Rhaegal but it had to be done! Rhaegal's death just wasn't realistic and it also wasn't realistic that not one of the scorpions hit anything during the battle, they're soldiers not storm troopers, hope you liked it nonetheless!**_

 _ **A Simply Cactus - A lot of people think it's Aifric! You won't have to wait long to find out anyway : )**_

 _ **Guest - I can't really answer that without giving something away about the ending hahaha**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain 967 - Thank you so much! And thanks for always being so kind and supportive it means the world xx**_


	66. (LXV) A White Horse

_**SONG:**_ _Farewell by Ramin Djawadi_

 _Jaime_

There were moments in Jaime Lannister's life that simply ripped his breath from his body. Some were actually caused by good circumstances - the feel of his firstborn son in the crook of his elbow, in example. All fears of being found out for having an illicit and incestuous affair had fallen away and all that was left was the sheer undying love for the babe in his arms. As cruel as Joffrey would grow to be, he was still his son.

Of course, not all these moments were as momentously beautiful - such as the sight of his daughter dying in his arms, unfairly taken from life before it had even truly begun. But there was only one preliminary time in his life that shocked Jaime Lannister to his core as much as the present, and that was when King Aerys Targaryen had ordered for his guards to ' _burn them all_ '.

 _She_ wasn't an aged man, screaming until her voice broke raw and eyes wildly examining all those near her for any sign of deceit. No, Cersei Lannister didn't quite dive headfirst into the depths of psychopathic insanity. Her mind hadn't broken, nor had she snapped from the pressures her paranoia placed unto her.

Cersei Lannister was no Aerys Targaryen, but she deserved the title 'Mad Queen' all the same.

It was positively masochistic the way she looked out over her burning city, eyes gliding over to each explosion that set off without surprise or reservation. Screams could be heard over the roar of the fires - men, women and children alike. Innocent people that had nothing to do with this war, but were caught in the crossfire all the same. His twin sister didn't look to feel an ounce of remorse. Jaime knew she hated the people of the city, likely bearing a grudge for those that had shouted at her while she was paraded through the streets naked as the day she was born. Cersei certainly had her reasons to hate the city and all memories associated with it. But no taunts or insults they could have fired her way warranted genocide. Not a single one.

Jaime's eyes swam with rising tears at the sight, unsure if he was more upset about the burning city or the fact he had ever loved his own sister. She never used to be like this - the image of a blonde, teenage version of the woman - innocently squealing with glee as she ran around the outskirts of Casterly Rock without a care in the world, had lingered in his mind for far too long. It was the vision he would turn to when he needed reminding of why he loved her previously and stuck by her. But nothing in the past, present or future would ever warrant his forgiveness this time.

From his view of the city through the floor-length window, still on his knees behind her, he could see in the far distance that the Dragon Queen was perched on the roof of a tall building in the midst of all the chaos, likely watching on helplessly from atop her dragon as her armies and her people burned beneath her.

"Cersei," Jaime croaked, the pain of the damage inflicted on his ribs by the Mountain restricting his breathing, "you have to stop this. This isn't who you are. There are innocent people down there!"

"The people of King's Landing have never been 'innocent'," she replied cooly, finishing the last sip of her wine before settling the chalice onto a table. "Besides, I gave them the chance to seek refuge within the Red Keep. It's her armies I'm aiming for and I've got them right where I want them. Even you can admit to the cleverness behind it."

"Cleverness?" he scoffed, placing his hand on the ground and attempting to stand up straight. This merciless act was going to stop, one way or another. "There are children out there!"

Ser Gregor wasn't long in putting him in place for attempting to stand, the golden hand he had earlier ripped off from Jaime back in his grasp as he walloped the Lannister heir over the back of his head with it, effectively knocking him back onto his knees. The strength of the hit blackened his vision for a couple of seconds, dreariness flooding his body and a warm sensation trickling down from the point of contact. He fought to keep his eyes open, desperate to stay awake and knowing that just like with Aerys, he was the only one that would be able to stop the slaughter. How curious the way the Gods worked.

"Cersei, please," he sputtered in a beg, the desperation in his tone enough to prompt her to turn around. "Can we just talk?"

She debated internally for a moment, staring him down fiercely from above and analysing every mark, scrape and bruise his body had visible. Jaime was a pathetic sight, a far cry from the handsome knight many women had fawned over in his early years. But just like Jaime held onto the tether between them, however stretched and thin it may have become, Cersei relented and nodded for Ser Gregor to leave.

"You abandoned me when I needed you the most," her voice was tight, as if she were struggling from keeping a calm facade when all she wanted to do was yell in anger. "You abandoned me and our _child_. What could you possibly have to say to me?"

"That I love you," he responded meekly, forcing his gaze to rise from the floor up to meet her blazing green orbs. "I have loved you from before we were even born, and if I can love you despite what you have done, you can love me for what I have done as well."

Her upper lip twitched furiously, gaze unwavering as if she was daring him to break and prove that he was lying. Cersei assumed he was trying to save himself - which meant he thought she was capable of killing him. And she wanted to, truly she did. But it was somehow still easier to watch a city of burning civilians than it was to watch the man she once called the love of her life, beaten and bruised. Shakily he rose once again to his feet, catching himself before falling forward. Finally, she darted her eyes away to the side as he limped toward her. Her resolve was weakening, and they both knew it.

"We could escape from here," he proposed, grasping onto her shoulder and leaning heavily on it- for balance and to prevent her from moving away. "It's not too late, Tyrion organised a boat for us to escape. We could go to one of the Free Cities, finally we could be free to be together and raise our _family_."

"Why would I leave when I am _winning_?" Cersei deadpanned, attempting to shake off his grip but failing when he only clenched his hand tighter.

"You really think the Targaryen will let you live after this? She's probably seconds away from taking off and burning this entire castle to the ground, with you inside of it," Jaime protested, sliding his remaining hand up to stroke his fingers delicately over her cheek. Cersei practically melted under the touch, the Ice Queen's frozen demeanor beginning to crack. "All the scorpions are gone, there is nothing stopping her from killing you. Killing us."

She tried to protest further, but he simply shook his head with a resigned look, swallowing thickly and leaning in until their foreheads pressed together. Cersei looked down as his hand suddenly trailed over the swell of her stomach gently.

"Please don't let our baby die, we don't need a castle or a crown," Jaime continued, relief settling over his body when her lower lip began to shake emotionally. "It's as you've said all this time. We're the only ones that matter."

The next time Cersei looked up, he didn't fail to notice the glimmer of hope in her eye. Something he hadn't seen in the woman for a very long time. He could tell what she was thinking, or rather, imagining - a small little house in Pentos, the sun shining through their golden hair and the wind bustling through their white cotton curtains. Their lives would be small, but ever so fulfilling, for all they had was themselves and family.

Beaming at the thought, and looking ever so younger for it, Cersei nodded enthusiastically and clutched onto his biceps, readying to leave at the next second. But first, she leaned in further to close the gap between them and seal their plan with a kiss. She revelled in the feeling of home that Jaime had always given her, for she would never know a home like being in Jaime's arms, safe and sound.

Cersei Lannister never did plant the kiss on her twin brother's lips, as she had been planning to. Her lips, which had been parted when she leaned in towards him, opened wider as her jaw fell slack. At some time during her moment of imagination, Jaime had dropped his hand from her swollen belly and slid a dagger from the inside of his cloak - swiftly angling it up before he could talk himself out of it and driving it through her heart with a sickening crunch. When Cersei had finally realised what was happening, she never even got the chance to be angry by the betrayal. Nor did she get the opportunity to be saddened by the false hope he had given her. For Jaime had struck well and true into his sister's heart, stopping it from ever beating again.

The Lannister son knew there was no other option, there was no coming back from her merciless mass murder. He could never have forgiven her, even if she had never so much as looked wrongly at another person again. Nonetheless, a sob of loss ripped through his throat. It was as if someone had taken half of his body, or half of his soul. Hate her as he did, Cersei and Jaime had came into the world together. She had once swore that their hearts were connected by an invisible tether, that meant they couldn't beat without the other.

Perhaps she had been onto something, as the sound of a blade being drawn from its scabbard and footsteps unusually heavy marching toward him met his ears, Jaime was almost glad for the sword that suddenly impaled through his back and out through his chest, silencing his pain and guilt effectively. Lifelessly, Jaime slumped onto the ground next to his sister, their bodies curled toward each other like they had in their mother's womb. Jaime and Cersei Lannister came into the world together, and left just the same.

* * *

 _Robb_

Robb Stark had been in a few battles - all of which he had come out as the victor. But he had never seen such brutality, not since the ill-fated wedding at the Twins. This wasn't a battle between opposing armies in a field, this was sheer and utter terror. For not only had the fight ensued between the soldiers, an unexpected third party had been dragged into the crossfire - the innocent civilians of King's Landing.

The Dothraki cared little for who met the end of their blades, slashing men, women and younglings alike simply for crossing their path. Robb had heard the Dothraki were merciless in the field, but he had expected Daenerys to somewhat tame them from their pillaging ways. The Unsullied fared somewhat better, only killing warriors. But from his limited knowledge, Robb knew that the Unsullied only acted on Daenerys words.

As horrified as he was to admit it, even his own Northmen had let the frenzy of battle get to their heads. Jon had rapidly relayed the tale of how he had to kill one of their own for attempting to rape a woman, and Robb didn't fault him for it. He'd have done the same. Try as he did to call them into line, it was as if they were drunk on the bloodshed. There were too many for Robb to wield power over, and it seemed as if he and Jon were the only ones who had their head screwed on correctly.

He was still waiting for the penny to drop - for a final showdown that would wipe them out. No battle was ever this easy, no army were ever slain as quick, no siege had managed to cut halfway through the city within an hour. If anything, Robb was almost glad to be focusing so heavily on the little number of Lannister soldiers there were remaining. Anything was better than the reminder that Fianna and Arya hadn't made their way towards them, yet. Even the other infiltrators had long ago found their way, but the two he longed to see the most had not. Robb could only silently pray to the Gods that they were still alive, but with the progress they were making he imagined he'd find out their fate soon enough.

The dragons screams had halted for now, where they had been rampant before as Daenerys took out what he guessed was the remaining scorpions along the wall. The Northern King noticed she had perched Drogon atop a sturdy building, eyes scanning the armies fighting below. There was little point in using fire to help now, it would only risk burning her own men to death.

A low rumble crackled through the ground suddenly, surprising the men enough to stop in their clashes and look around in bafflement. Even the Lannister men seemed to stumble backward in shock, as the grumbling grew until an ear-splitting boom sounded through the city - shaking the buildings and the grounds.

It sounded eerily similar to the wildfire explosions he had heard an hour before, except this time much closer, and without warrant. Jon, who had been looking around wildly until he met Daenerys' eye, gave her a sharp nod. Within moments, the Dragon Queen began visually searching for the source of the explosion, eyebrows furrowing when she seemed to locate something in the distance.

"Where's the other dragon?" Robb prompted in confusion, hoping that Jon's 'pet' hadn't decided to run rampant without his command.

"I heard it was shot," Jon sighed miserably, guilt evidently etched on his face. Robb didn't share his sentiment - better the dragon than Jon. "I haven't seen it since she took out the Iron Fleet."

Another explosion rang out, this time much closer and enough to topple the two men over, hands clapped over their ears in a desperate attempt to stop the sudden ringing that struck them. Desperately, Robb searched for a source, but only met Daenerys face instead - which was panic-stricken, as the Targaryen seemingly had figured out what was happening.

" _Run_!" she roared as loudly as she could, to both Robb and Grey Worm - the commanders of both armies. Not needing to be told twice, the Stark heir began to shout at the top of his voice to retreat. Finally the Northmen had snapped out of their bloodlust with the string of detonations, fearing for their lives as they scattered back the route they had travelled. Robb still hadn't caught sight of what was causing the eruptions, but he knew well enough to know that it was likely some form of a trap Cersei had set.

He _knew_ it wasn't this easy. He knew better.

The next blast was the closest of its predecessors, blowing off directly behind the retreating army and sending out a discharge radius that sent Robb and all those before and beside him flat on their stomachs. Immediately, he could sense the warm sensation of blood dripping down from his hair onto his face as he blinked blearily, trying to catch a grip of what had happened. Letting out a cough at the dust and ash that followed, as well as the pain in his chest from his impact with the ground, Robb rolled flat onto his back and stared at the blue sky above. A dragon soared overhead, probably trying to escape whatever had attacked him as well, but he was too in the throes of confusion to decipher it.

A hand suddenly reached out and dragged his arm forward until Robb was in a sitting position, the perpetrators other hand wrapping around his back in an attempt to help him to his feet. Staring blankly ahead, Robb's eyes glanced over the random scatterings of a fire so strangely green in colour, consuming bodies of men he recognised.

" _Robb_!" A yelling voice finally broke through his muffled hearing, snapping him back to reality with a blink as the King in the North finally realised what he was staring at - Northern soldiers, burning to their deaths. Some, dead already.

Shakily scrambling to get onto his feet, with the help of the brother he was desperately thankful was still alive, they wrapped their arms around each other's waists and leaned on each other to continue retreating. After a couple of seconds, Robb felt well enough to support himself and began to sprint without the need for his brother's strength. The cool breath of death nipped at his heels all the while, waiting to consume him whole and kill him as well.

The blasts had to have been Cersei's doing - he remembered hearing a rumour that she herself had been responsible for the explosion at the Sept of Baelor, which resulted in killing hundreds instantly. He didn't doubt for a second she was against killing her own men. Fianna hadn't been the only clever one when she thought of the wildfire.

The journey back felt so much longer than the one forward, echoing howls of screams in the distance told the brothers it wasn't only soldiers being impacted. Robb and Jon helped where they could, dragging lone women and children along with them and promising they'd be safe outside of the city. The majority of them had refused and ran fearfully from them, assuming they were the ones setting off the detonations of wildfire as Fianna's infiltrators had before.

 _Fianna_ , his heart thumped in memory. He had doubts already of his wife and sisters survival, but what chance was there now that the city was alight?

His head and his heart warred with each other - Robb's mind telling him the smart decision would be to retreat to safety outside of the gates and wait for Fianna and Arya's return. Perhaps Daenerys would be searching for them - did wildfire even affect dragons? But his heart, the one that was consumed by the Northern Queen from the cut of her hair down to her toes, begged for his body to turn around and look for her.

The city was massive, he forced himself to realise. And searching for the duo would only end in him dying too. Robb had to get out of the city alive - not for his title, not for his people or for the North, but for the two children at home that had watched them depart with teary eyes and a heavy heart.

Robb's life would be unbearable without Fianna, but it wasn't just _his_ life any more.

* * *

 _Fianna_

The explosions happened sporadically, she noticed. They weren't timed or in any way routine, meaning that whatever wick or candle that was setting them afire was lit according to the person, not to a plan. This was so much worse than an established pattern - because they had no way of knowing which buildings to dodge and how long they'd have until the next one blew. Fianna's leg was in so much agony it left her eyes watering and her face as red as blood, but the chance of death once again staring at her directly in the face gave enough adrenaline for her to power onward. Arya was slowing herself down to accommodate, she knew. There was little doubt that the damage done to their eardrums would last for a few days at least, a constant ringing that only grew more profound with each explosion.

In a matter of minutes, Fianna had seen more horror than she had in her entire life. The streets were littered with charred corpses, burning bodies and screaming children. At one point, Fianna had scooped a lone toddler up into her arms in an attempt to protect her from the wildfire, but the child's mother had followed after and ripped the babe from her grasp. The two died in the next explosion seconds later.

Fianna was never quite sure of her belief in the Gods - Old or New. She was raised under the Old faith, even married in a Godswood. But there was always doubt cast upon her mind after the death and destruction she had seen over the years. But if she was certain of anything, it was that if the duo had miraculously managed to escape with their lives this day - the Gods were real, and on their side.

Smoke and ash left the air a thick cloud, that burned her lungs fiercely with every inhale and left her eyes as dry as sand. Judging by Arya's appearance - a dusting of white ash coating her skin and hair, Fianna imagined she looked much the same. The two had taken to holding hands as they ran, in a desperate attempt to not be separated.

"We've got to hide in one of the buildings," Arya tugged on Fianna's grip, bringing her to a halt in the middle of a panicked street.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fianna gasped in shock at the notion, "we have no idea which buildings are rigged to blow!"

"The town houses are bound to be free!" Arya protested, letting go of her hand and darting toward the nearest house that others seemed to also be piling inside. Fianna, in a mad attempt at keeping her away, reached out for Arya's hair to drag her backward. But the younger girl was too quick, and skimmed past her clutches knowing she would follow.

The now familiar rumbling sound that would surely haunt Fianna's dreams until the end of her days sounded again, ground seeming to crack under their feet until a fiery green explosion erupted and sent the Northern Queen tumbling backward. Arya had been right - the town house wasn't rigged to blow, but the shop beside it was. The blast diameter was simply too great for any surrounding buildings to survive it.

The brunette cried out in horror when she managed to scramble back to stand on two feet, noticing the dark head of hair slumped against the ground mere feet in front of her. The eruption had caused Arya to unfortunately fall upon a rock that completely knocked her out cold. Fianna, struggling to contain her breathing as her panic began to rise, practically fell onto her knees next to the Stark daughter, watching with wild eyes for any sign of life. Exhaling in relief as Arya's chest was noticeably rising and falling, Fianna blinked back tears and the pain coursing through her body as she slid her hand underneath the girl's middle and hauled her into the air.

Arya was fairly light and small, and Fianna's upper body strength was more profound than most women her age, but she still struggled with the weight of her good-sister as she lifted her over her shoulder. The added weight was agonising on her foot, but she'd be damned if she'd leave Arya behind. Fianna moved much slower than before through the streets, every muscle in her body aching and begging for her to collapse - but she wouldn't. The closest Fianna had come to passing out previously had been the Battle of the North, where an arrow found itself imbedded in her stomach and Arya had been by her side, keeping her safe. Fianna was returning that favour today.

Another nearby explosion left a gust of ash and wind that knocked her to her knees once more, the newfound pain and frustration enough to finally elicit a sob from Fianna. The last thing she wanted to do was die in the streets of King's Landing, mere minutes from her husband and miles from her children.

But her body had enough, and try as she did to stand again and continue pushing forward, Fianna couldn't bring herself to get up. The added tears in her eyes caused her retinas to burn even more, but she barely noticed - instead focusing on clutching Arya's unconscious body to her chest. In an act she considered very unlike herself, Fianna closed her eyes and prayed. To the Old Gods, the New and even the Lord of Light. She begged for the unrelenting horror to stop, for a saviour to come for the first time in her life and save _her_. She didn't know how long she had sat there for - seconds or minutes, but when Fianna opened her eyes again she was sure she was hallucinating.

The city had seemingly begun to calm somewhat, the dust and ash settling and the last explosion quite some time ago. Her reddened and unfocused eyes scanned the vicinity in confusion, wondering if the Gods had decided to heed her wishes for once. As the mist began to settle, a tall shape emerged from the foggy air, approaching the two. It took her a few seconds with her weakened state to realise that it was a horse - perfectly pristine and untarnished mare, as white as snow and as pretty as the sun. The Northern Queen wondered if she truly had died in the period of time her eyes were closed, but as the animal neared closer she noticed that it's mane wasn't the only thing white on the animal.

Gently settling her good-sister down onto the ground, Fianna shakily stood to full height, muscles groaning in protest. The horse had neared close enough now for her to distinguish its features, and she finally was able to recognise that the horse wasn't an illusion. It truly had eyes as milky as snow, with not a pupil to be seen. As soon as she recognised that fact, its eyes seemed to roll back down, revealing a dark brown iris.

"Bran," Fianna murmured in realisation, reaching out and stroking the horse's snout. The animal huffed in response, which she took as a positive sign. Perhaps the Gods had answered her after all - that, or Bran had. The next time Fianna hauled Arya into her arms, she groaned as she managed to lift the younger woman to rest over the horse's saddle, before pushing herself up to sit on top as well.

"The Red Keep is open again!" A voice of an elderly man, who was sprinting too quickly for his age, came as he ran down the deadened street. Out of curiosity, Fianna stopped the horse before taking off to listen to his rambles, as he had clearly been losing his grip on reality with eyes wandering about without recognition. "The soldiers are coming to save us!"

Fianna had turned away before the man spoke his final comment - but this gave her pause, eyebrows furrowing and glancing back towards the vast walls in the far distance that had kept her out some time ago. The explosions may have stopped, but how likely was it that Cersei held another battalion of soldiers safely within the Red Keep - to attack when they were weak and nearly wiped out?

The battle wasn't over after all, she realised with a newfound horror. But whether or not it had reached its climax, there was one thing she knew for certain - they had lost.

* * *

 _Jon_

"Your grace," Jon heard a voice sound from behind him, the same Northern Lord that had approached Robb several times within the last thirty minutes was speaking once again. "We really can't stay-"

"I told you we're waiting," Robb thundered in response, losing all patience and never once moving his gaze from the area in front that he could see. They had managed to make it to the gate they first entered though, or rather - those that had survived the blasts made it. The Northern army re-convened with Tyrion, who was sitting silently - consumed with revulsion at the war crime his own sister had committed. Some of the Unsullied had returned, along with Grey Worm - but none of the Dothraki had been seen yet. There were so few to begin with, and given the fact they were further into the city than the other squadrons, it was unlikely they had made it.

Robb was only concerned with the fact his wife and sister hadn't returned, as was Jon. Daenerys hadn't been seen since she jetted off on Drogon some period of time ago, but she was likely reeling from the horror of the battle and needed to breathe. The two brothers had stood side by side, and as saddened as Jon was by the thought of his closest sibling not returning, he knew they couldn't wait forever. The Gods only knew if there were more traps outside the wall.

The explosions had stopped for the last ten minutes or so, but no one dared to breathe a sigh of relief for fear they would kick back off, or even worsen. The figure of a horse was seen in the distance, and Jon's first guess was that a Dothraki rider had made it. But as the animal neared closer and it's rider became familiar, he barely got the chance to react before Robb had jetted off towards it, confirming his suspicions.

Fianna's long and dark hair was seen immediately as Jon followed after, albeit at a slower pace. He was concerned with the fact she was the only one to be seen, _without_ Arya. Robb reached up and placed his hands on her hips, hauling her down from the horse as the Queen practically collapsed with exhaustion onto his front, burying her head in the crook of his neck.

"I thought you were gone," Robb was heard whispering, voice as broken as the city before them. The King allowed himself only a minute to tend to his wife, peppering relieved kisses against her mouth and forehead before he turned his attention to the horse. Jon's slow pace quickened into a sprint when he saw what grabbed his attention, another figure - strewn over the horse.

" _Arya_ ," Jon wheezed as Robb began to lift her down carefully, scooping his hands underneath her legs and cradling her to his chest. The two brothers collided as they doted over their youngest sister, tenderly feeling her forehead and checking her for signs of breath. They collectively sighed with ease once they saw she was simply unconscious, a nasty gash on her forehead the likely culprit.

"I'll take her, Fianna needs help," Jon prompted, holding out his forearms for Robb to hand over their little sister, although the King did so reluctantly. The red-haired man kept an eye on his brother and sister as he turned to his wife, slipping a supportive arm around her waist and helping her walk back to their temporary resting spot just outside of the gates. All progress Fianna had made with her foot had vanished in a few hours, as she limped and hobbled on her good leg and leaned on Robb for support.

"I just... I just wanted to keep her safe," she stammered, hissing in pain as Robb tried to quicken their pace to make sure they would make it safely back to the others.

"I know, and thank you," he murmured sincerely in return, pecking the side of her head and silently thanking whatever God had brought his family back to him - scathed, but safe.

"Robb, there are more guards coming from the Red Keep," she whispered suddenly with a newfound urgency, nodding towards a nearby Northern soldier that had approached to make sure she was alright. The news should have shocked him, but this war was over - as far as he was concerned.

Jon overheard his cousin's murmur from a few feet away, settling his sister down carefully for the soldiers with limited medical expertise to take over and dote upon her. One fetched for a small block of something utterly foul smelling from one of his pockets, dangling it underneath her nose and beaming once it ignited a reaction in Arya, that came in the form of her jumping up with a disgusted expression. Jon immediately bent down and crushed her into a hug, but there was one more pressing matter to discuss with Robb before he could continue marvelling over her.

He watched as his brother fretted over the army in front of him, eyes scraping over the wounds people had inflicted and the sheer look of loss on others. The wildfire had claimed a few Northern lives, and its resounding impact could be felt. They were a wounded army to begin with, but there was only one word to describe them now - broken. The revelation that even more soldiers were on their way to finish them off was nothing short of devastating, but Jon knew there was only one solution. And judging by his brother's expression, he guessed that Robb was already debating it.

"Robb," Jon called out, clapping his hand over his brothers shoulder to somewhat comfort him and aid his reservations. "You know what you need to do."

"Promises be damned," Robb breathed through his nose in a sort of snort, "this battle is over. We lost. The North isn't going to suffer any more than it already has. Not now, not ever again."

Bending down to pick up the sword he had strewn in his haste to reach Fianna, Robb held it high in the air for all his men to see. The action had silenced the murmur; as they all waited to hear what their King had to say next. But Robb didn't have to _say_ anything, for the simple act of him sheathing his sword spoke volumes.

"Let's go home," he announced, only loud enough for the nearest soldiers to hear but those further back soon heard the whisper from the ones in front. A widespread look of relief was etched on their faces, the prospect of returning to their spouses and children to wait out the rest of Winter dawning in their minds.

Not everyone appreciated the gesture though, such was the case with Grey Worm as he stormed toward the Northern leader with an expression of anger. The Unsullied commander was fiercely loyal to his Queen, but was experienced enough to recognise they stood little chance without the Northern army. Even with a dragon - there was no guarantees that there was no wildfire left throughout the city that Daenerys would only ignite if she let Drogon free.

"You know what happens to traitors!" he roared at Robb's back as the King wrapped a protective arm around his wife, who had resigned to their fate. Fianna was often hailed the 'Undefeated' in the weeks following the battle against the undead, but King's Landing had proven to be the end of her reign as an unbeatable warrior. Their army dwindled, the city was burning and there wasn't a man or woman present who hadn't seen some form of atrocity that would traumatise them for life.

Robb paused in his step at Grey Worm's words, slowly turning with a dangerous flash across his face. There was little doubt that he'd have killed the commander for standing in his way or threatening his life. Shaking his head defeatedly, Jon placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as a signal before stepping forward to meet Grey Worm. Before blood was shed, he hoped that words would be enough.

"Look around you, Grey Worm," Jon sighed, a grave expression marring his features. "We've lost too many, a dragon is dead and a fleet of soldiers are leaving the Red Keep as we speak to wipe out the rest of us. If you have any hope of seeing Missandei again, you'll lay down your spear and convince Daenerys that this is over. We lost."

"I will not stand down until my Queen tells me too," he argued, tightening his grip around the shaft of his weapon until his knuckles whitened. His newly defensive stature prompted Jon to whip out his own sword, curling his lips inward and straightening to ready himself.

"Jon, what are you doing?" Robb demanded, watching wearily as the remaining Unsullied soldiers settled into a line behind Grey Worm's back, waiting for his command to attack.

"Protecting our King," Jon replied calmly, wielding Long Claw into the air and swiftly casting a glance around at the battalion Grey Worm had at his command. Sensing the conflict, the Northerners behind Robb squared up their shoulders as well, flocking to Robb's side to defend their King and Queen. The numbers were fairly even, but the Unsullied were also fiercely trained since childhood.

"Enough," a feminine voice called out sternly, the distraction of the rising tension leaving everyone blind to the massive dragon that had settled on the ground just outside of the ruined wall. Its owner dismounted her creature gracefully, although the rigidity of her posture suggested she was far from as calm as she wanted them to believe. Daenerys had seen just as much as they had, and it only added to the guilt already present on her shoulders from the death of her child.

"Dany," Jon breathed out, lowering his arm and turning to her expectantly. "This war is over. Let both of our people go before we lose anyone else." His words could have been harsher, but they only seemed to infuriate the Dragon Queen further as her nostrils flared from the angry exhale she gave.

"We are _this_ close," she narrowed her eyes dangerously. " _This_ close to the Iron Throne. I have thought about this moment since I was a babe, taking back what is rightfully mine isn't a _choice_. I have to do this. You are either by my side, or you are traitors."

"Dany," someone called out again, although the owner of the voice was distinctly more high-pitched. Dragging herself out from underneath Robb's armpit, Fianna slowly walked towards her aunt with a resolute expression. Fianna the Defeated would have perfectly described her appearance at that minute. "You're going to let us leave."

"I could burn you alive where you stand," she threatened in response, marching forward to meet her with a voice as tight as her posture.

"And I could slit your throat for threatening that," Fianna calmly replied, straightening to meet her eye for eye. The two stood with a foot's distance between them - two Queens whose bond was threatened by title and loyalty. The Bua daughter watched her expression for a moment, honing in on the visible signs of distress the Targaryen was in.

"You swore an oath," she reminded her niece, "an oath between us and your husband that you would help me win in exchange for the North."

"And I'm sorry that we failed, I tried my hardest," the brunette pleaded, desperation evident in her eyes. "Daenerys... you are blood of my blood. I am sorry it took me so long to deny that, but we are family. You don't want to harm me any more than I would want to harm you. Don't kill yourself or risk losing the only people you have left."

The blonde stayed quiet, darting her eyes off to the ground in a demeanor that resembled shame and stubbornness.

"You could come North with us," Fianna continued when she never received an answer, stepping further forward with her voice low enough to make the moment private between them. Her gaze born into Daenerys - grey meeting blue in a stand off. "We could be the family you never had."

"That's just not realistic is it?" she answered meekly after a moment, swallowing thickly as her eyes glistened with a thin layer of building tears. Fianna exhaled shakily, giving a small nod. The Northern Queen knew as soon as she said it that it would be little more than a dream. Perhaps in another lifetime, Daenerys would have been raised alongside her niece - surrounded by a family that she loved and was loved by in return. But Daenerys wasn't just the little girl who narrowly escaped death by the skin of nose any longer, who longed for a loving family and a home over power and strength. She had come too far to ever settle down in a small Northern home, resigned to a quiet life until the end of her days.

"You could go back to Meereen?" Fianna suggested with a slight shrug, but her aunt's reaction was clear when she cast her gaze pointedly back towards the Red Keep, a longing in her eyes that showed she was long past the point of convincing. "It really means that much to you?"

"It's all I've ever known," Daenerys admitted, suddenly overpowered with emotion at the disappointed glint in Fianna's eye. Her niece downcast her gaze, adopting a strange demeanor as she began to look in every direction except towards her. Little did the blonde know that Fianna was fighting against the sob rising in her throat, too fearful to speak in case it ripped through her chest and broke her stony exterior.

"Then-.. then if you must die..." she cut herself off, voice tight as she tried to complete her sentence, inhaling deeply through her nose, "just know that you died loved."

After forcing out those final words, Fianna abruptly turned with a hand clapped over her mouth and left Daenerys Targaryen where she stood, the North following her steps and resigning the Unsullied and their Queen to their fate. Every step she took felt heavier than the last, and in another world again Fianna and Daenerys would have hugged. They would have embraced, knowing it could be their final moment seeing the other alive - but once more, that was just a thought. In this world, Fianna and Daenerys were family who had never hugged, nor ever even shook hands. And the further away she got from the Dragon Queen, the She Wolf knew she'd never get the chance to, either.

Jon stood still while the others departed, watching as her shoulder slumped in defeat. Realising that the man she loved was still standing staring, she hurriedly wiped away the remainder of her tears and sniffed lowly.

"I love you," he revealed to her honestly. It didn't change anything, nor would it ever. His honour would always outweigh his emotions, and there was something significantly dishonourable about covering a close family member.

"If only that had been enough," she answered lowly, watching as he too turned away from her, leaving her like everyone else seemed to lately.

A Targaryen alone in the world truly was a terrible thing.

* * *

 _ **Sorry that all of King's Landing wasn't in this chapter, but it's already massive and the next chapter is where everything comes full circle and all makes sense so I didn't want to rush it! I've just started a job that's 12 hour days so I'm trying to keep up with writing.**_

 _ **I cried writing the next chapter. Like, many times. Nobody else probably will but DAMN I did. I've also given Cersei the ending that, in my opinion, she deserved. Plus it fulfils the prophecy!**_

 _ **Hope everyone likes this chapter, until next time!**_

 _ **Guest - I'm not sure Daenerys would have left a dragon behind, King's Landing is massive after all but the dragons deaths are always the hardest to write : (**_

 _ **Guest - Thank you so much that means a lot! My writing has certainly come along way anyway, I cringe re-reading the first chapters hahah**_

 _ **Lightningscar - I have no doubt Daenerys will end up the mad queen in the books as well, but in my opinion the TV show should have spent a whole season dedicated to that for it to feel satisfying. I think the reason so many people would disagree with you is that it just didn't feel right. We didn't even get to see Daenerys' face after she started burning the city down, it didn't even feel like her doing it. You don't go from literally saying you don't want to be Queen of the Ashes to doing just that weeks later. But thank you for your kind comments! I'm glad you liked the writing, battle scenes are always the most difficult to write!**_

 _ **Crystal Wold Guardain 967 - No worries at all! I'm glad you liked it anyway and I hope you like this one too, have a lovely day! x**_


	67. (LXVI) For Everything a Reason

_**SONG:**_ _To Build a Home by The Cinematic Orchestra_

 _Daenerys_

The Unsullied swept back through the ruins of King's Landing, as ordered as ever despite the obvious disorder around them. Daenerys flew over the wreckage on the back of Drogon, a vast shadow of her dragon cast on the destroyed buildings beneath them. Occasionally, she could just about make out the sight of retreating figures, sprinting in every direction to get away from both her and the Unsullied. No doubt about it, the people would blame her and her armies for the wildfire after what the infiltrators had done. Damage control would be a necessity, no doubt, but Daenerys was so close to the forged metal of the iron throne she cared little for the logistics of maintaining it.

The sting of Jon and Fianna's betrayal was still a fresh wound that cut heavy on her heart, but it didn't stop her from progressing onward. There was still a chance - the scorpions were gone, and even with only a single dragon Daenerys could have wiped out the rest of the Lannister army by herself. The nearer she got to the gates of the Red Keep, although, she began to see that the placement of the explosions had been somewhat strategic. Noticeably, the buildings surrounding the walls of the Red Keep were completely untouched, and seemed to have a constant line of people flooding inside seeking safety.

The new forces that had surged outward from the safety of the castle walls didn't extend as far as she was led to believe, as they remained just outside of the gates and away from the damage. One would think they were merely there to stop anyone breaching the Red Keep, but Daenerys knew better. The houses were left free from explosive damage as they were an extra line of defence. If the Dragon Queen wanted to use Drogon to end the battle once and for all, she'd be killing dozens of innocent people to do so.

She stayed airborne until the Unsullied had reached the Lannister fleet, two opposing forces and styles of fighting meeting with a clash of swords against spears. Cersei's soldiers were heavily clad in armour, whilst Daenerys' were free from restraints and able to move quicker without the added weight. The former of the two fought ferociously, desperate to win and protect the Queen that they were either loyal to, or paid to be loyal to - the latter fought with a precise form and technique. The Unsullied had been trained since childhood to fight, and it could be argued a single man was worth three Westerosi fighters.

Daenerys perched her dragon on the wall of the Red Keep, her eyes firmly set on the castle in front of her. Her whole life had reached this point, and it was within her grasp. She could, at any point, reach out and take it. All she had to do was simply say one word in her mother tongue, and then it wouldn't matter that the Unsullied were perishing beneath her due to being outrageously outnumbered. It wouldn't matter that the Northerners had left, or that she had no one left to fight by her. For she always had Drogon, and that was all she needed now.

But a shrill cry rang out from the crowd beneath, forcing her to dart her eyes down to the large crowd of King's Landing natives who had gathered in the Red Keep seeking safety. She hadn't paid much attention before to the droves of men, women and children below - but now it was all she could focus on. Every where she looked, her gaze would land upon a scared individual, cowering under the sight of her above them. The hatred and fear on their faces was evident even from higher above, a heart-breaking sight that shook the Dragon Queen to her core. It wasn't supposed to be like this. The commonfolk were supposed to rejoice at the return of a Targaryen, one who was here to free them from a tyrant and put an end to over twenty years of political ruin.

But they didn't look at her with gratitude or adoration. The people of Westeros would never look to Daenerys as their saviour, she was beginning to realise. If anything, the terror that ran through the crowd made it seem like _she_ was the tyrant who would bring ruin to the Seven Kingdoms.

Daenerys felt as if her heart was sinking into her chest, her lifelong dream burning along with the city behind her. Slowly glancing backward, she exhaled shakily once she saw that the Unsullied were dwindling - easily less than one hundred soldiers remained. Given the majority ruling, that one hundred wouldn't be alive much longer. With tears pricking her eyes, Daenerys turned back to the beautifully designed castle before her, lavishly decorated with stained glass and immaculate columns. She expected it to feel like home, but it felt more foreign than ever.

This was never Daenerys home. Her home was with her people, and her dragons. And she had lost all of the above since coming to Westeros.

With a single tear trickling down her ash-covered cheek, Daenerys' shoulders slumped in defeat as she came to her final decision. Almost tauntingly, her mind teased her with imaginative visions of her seated on a throne made of hundreds of swords, the Seven Kingdoms at her feet and a triple dragon head adorning the stained glass instead of a lion. Her mind begged her to unleash fire - settle the quiet war that had raged over two decades, or raged in herself and her brother at least. But in the end, it was her heart that had won over.

Daenerys Targaryen was a protector of innocence. The term 'innocence' was surely a definitive blanket term that settled over the dozens upon dozens of commonfolk - tightly packed within the walls of the Red Keep, or poking their heads out of the nearest houses. They were the people that she had always wanted to protect, but at that moment in time, it was them that needed protection from _her_.

As if their hope for survival grew with each passing moment that the Dragon Queen didn't slaughter them, the crowd seemed to visibly relax. Those that held their arms over their heads dropped them hesitantly, while the babes that cowered behind their mother's skirts slipped out to gaze upward in wonder. It was the most contrasting scene Daenerys had ever seen - the image of innocent children looking towards her with hope, juxtaposing with the unrelenting slaughter of her own men behind her. If only she had listened to the others, her most loyal warriors would have lived another day. Grey Worm would have lived another day.

While Daenerys became transfixed with the people beneath her, too entranced to consider that it would have been a good moment to leave and order her remaining Unsullied to follow, she failed to see that a boy - no older than ten-and-four, who had sprinted forward onto the rooftop of a nearby store building. The boy's marred appearance made him seem older than he truly was, with a scar running up from the corner of his lip to his ear, but the fearful shake in his arms would have reminded any onlooker that he was simply a child. A child of King's Landing, desperate to protect his family and friends from further bloodshed.

He held no sword, for it had been taken mere hours before by the Northern Lady with a scar of her own blemishing her chin, nor did he wear a single stretch of metal to protect his vital organs. All he held was his trusty bow and arrow, the sole weapon he was confident with to wield and shoot true. The boy had never killed anyone before, but hours upon hours of seeing his nearest neighbours and friends burning to death after an explosion of mysteriously green flame, the last shred of innocence he had been holding onto diminished.

Even still, he whimpered as he aimed his bow at the Dragon Queen, her back to the building with which he stood on top of. She had taken out all of the cities scorpions that threatened her dragons life, but all it would take to tear her life away was a single arrow. An arrow shot from a close enough distance, by someone who was skilled enough with the weapon.

And that's all it did take. For the boy let out a sob as soon as the arrow left his bowstring, shooting in a straight line in the exact direction he had been aiming for, the metal tip embedding into her back.

The dragon roared as Daenerys choked, blood immediately rising in her throat and causing her to loosen her grip on the creatures back as she tumbled sideways off and onto his vast, black wing. Drogon cried out for his mother's injury, desperately scrambling to keep her from falling and eventually managing to shimmy down off the wall onto the ground beneath, where a vast space had cleared in the crowd for the dragons set-down.

The red-tinged beast screamed in warning at the nearest people, daring them to approach his mother as she slid ever so carefully down from his wing and onto the dirt-covered ground beneath. Worriedly, Drogon nudged her with his snout, letting out another roar that deafened the ears of all in the courtyard. Having landed on her side, Daenerys' breathing became increasingly shallow - her vision staring to fade as the life fell from her body far too quickly for any healer to even dream of fixing, but no one even attempted to approach her. Not a single person among the crowd made an effort to save her life - neither civilian or soldier alike. They looked on without compassion, believing her dying form to be the Gods justly responding to the release of wildfire, something they believed she was responsible for.

The pain of the rejection almost hurt more than the arrow itself, and her mind couldn't help but wander through her memories in order to distract from the scene. The last time she had been in the centre of such a crowd, they had hoisted her into the air and lovingly called her 'Mhysa' - ever so thankful that she had saved them from an unfair rule. So even though the people of King's Landing didn't appreciate her for it or even recognise what she had done, Daenerys Stormborn passed away content with the knowledge that she had made the right decision. She had protected the innocence as best as she could - this time, from herself.

* * *

 _Fianna_

Fianna Stark had enlisted herself in helping the wounded alongside the Silent Sisters, doting upon the burn and/or stab wounds and pushing all of her strength into saving what was left of the North. Many had been astonished by the sight of their Queen, covered in blood that she herself had not drawn, with hair damp from exertion's sweat and tenderly wiping the blood from the injured as she let them sip Milk of the Poppy. Inspired by her efforts, Robb had later joined in and assisted with the blood and gore. Their camp had settled nearest to High Heart, practically a stone's throw from Riverrun. His uncle's castle was closest to them, and held the best opportunity for some well needed rest.

It was dark when he had finally come across Fianna among the casualties, slipping forward with his blue eyes intently on her face - which was twisted with concentration as she focused on gripping the hand of a man whose wound needed stitched. Patiently, Robb waited until the painful ordeal was over and the soldier had slipped into unconsciousness from the pain of the action, before he stepped toward the Queen.

"You're exhausted," he commented in a gentle tone, placing his hands on her biceps and encouraging her to stand. "You need your rest as well, most of the work is done already."

"It will never be enough to repay them for their loyalty," she stubbornly replied, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they tiredly walked towards the makeshift tent that had been quickly thrown up for them. "We never should have taken them to King's Landing, and we never will again."

"If Daenerys won, we shouldn't have to."

" _If_ she won," Fianna sighed, the true source of her mood becoming evident. "The Dragon Queen has either burned the Red Keep to the ground or fled back to Dragonstone by now, either way it bodes bad news for all of us. We promised her our help, and we've broken that deal. She won't be so quick to forget."

"Neither will we," Robb stopped her in their step, facing her fully and reaching his hands up to cup her cheeks. "The North remembers, and we must remember now all that the North has lost whilst I have been King-"

"Because they're _loyal_ to you, they _believe_ in you."

"And look what their loyalty has brought them," Robb scoffed, gesturing to the injured bodies that scattered the open field. "Politics isn't something that comes easy to me, my father said so himself. I might be able to win battles but I cannot win wars, and I won't put myself in a position to again. I meant it when I said this was it, that the North will never see blood shed again while I am alive."

"I agree," Fianna murmured, the weight of the previous battle heavy on her shoulders. "Whether they are remembered or not, it doesn't change the fact that our dead are simply that - dead. They will become nothing but stories to the children we raise. I don't know much about politics, in truth I believe I am too hot-headed for such a thing. But we will just have to learn, together."

Forcing a smile at her encouraging words, Robb clasped their hands together, entwining their fingers and leaning in to press a kiss to her lips that solidified an unspoken promise. They had been acting as masters of war for years, and now they were going to be the King and Queen the North not only deserved, but sorely needed.

"Your Grace," an unfamiliar man appeared from the shadows of night, flanked by another and the two Stark guards that Robb had sent to ride ahead to Riverrun and notify his Uncle of their upcoming arrival. Judging by the Tully sigil of a fish borne across his breast plate, it would seem that Edmure had sent back two of his own men. "Lord Edmure has sent us with news that he feel you should hear."

"What is it?" Robb inquired, sighing inwardly at the thought of further bad news reaching them. Given their luck, he could only pray to the Old Gods that Winterfell had not been raided in their absence.

"He received a scroll just a short time ago from Tyrion Lannister, the Hand of Daenerys Targaryen," the guard informed as he handed the small, rolled note towards the King in the North. At the revelation of its sender, Robb and his wife met eyes with caution, expecting it to be full of threat and warning. Instead of reading its private contents, Fianna read her husband's reaction instead while he did. Confusingly, his expression did not mar itself with anger, nor did his nostrils flare in response to a direct threat. Instead, his face remained somewhat blank, even an essence of relief became somewhat evident. But it was his eyes that set the Northern Queen off, as they lifted from the paper to look at her with a sympathetic gaze.

Unable to handle the suspense, she snatched the item from his hands and hurriedly began to read through, noting the broken seal that had kept its contents bound together during its travel toward the destination was of the three dragon heads. With shaky fingers, Fianna held the scroll extended to read the words carefully.

 _To the Noble Lords and Ladies of Westeros,_

 _It is with a heavy heart that I must inform you of not only the death of Cersei and Jaime of House Lannister, but also Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. All three perished in the Battle for King's Landing, and have left the Iron Throne open to be taken at any moment. I must beseech you all to join me at your earliest convenience for a meeting in the Dragon Pit of King's Landing. It is time to put this war to an end, and choose among ourselves the fate of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as who deserves to be in control of it._

 _Yours faithfully_

 _Tyrion Lannister_

Much like Fianna had watched for Robb's reaction intensely, he had done the same for her. But the Bua daughter had remained as stoic as possible, not out of inner strength but for the fact the words she read over and over didn't seem to process through her brain.

Death had followed her for her lifespan, but never had it taken so long to become believable. Perhaps the sheer fact Daenerys hadn't died in her arms as so many others had meant she felt she had to see it to believe, but the deniability of Tyrion's claims remained. Regardless of manpower, Daenerys had a full-grown dragon. How could she not have escaped, especially after Fianna's foreboding warning?

"Fianna..." Robb began, reaching out to touch her for comfort. But his wife had turned out of his grasp before it could brush her clothing, swiftly turning towards the hill in the distance for an attempt of resolving the thoughts that raced in her mind. She wouldn't let anyone see her cry for the Targaryen Queen, but that didn't mean she would be able to hold herself together.

"I just need a moment alone," she called out, forcing the shakiness and uncertainty out of her voice in an attempt to sound as stable as possible. With a limp heavier than usual in her step, she set forth for the Weirwood stumps that lined the Hill of High Heart to allow herself the time to grieve, for she knew she wouldn't get to again.

* * *

"They say this place is haunted, you know," a thickly accented Northern voice called out to her, startling Fianna enough to jump from where she sat and viciously wipe away the dampness of her cheeks before they could reflect the light of the moon and give way to her grief. When she felt she looked somewhat presentable, the Queen turned towards Jon as he carefully made his way towards her. Jon was always a man for brooding, she knew well. But there was a newfound demeanor in him that assured her he had learned of the news as well - a downturn on his lips, a crinkle between his brows.

"I think it's me that is haunted," Fianna chuckled drily, shuffling on the stump she was seated on before her backside started to cramp from remaining in one place. "I assume you've heard of the news."

"Everyone has," Jon sighed resolutely, sitting on the stump just aside hers. There were thirty-one that surrounded the hill in total, and although she hated herself for it, Fianna couldn't help but constantly remark on what great potential the hill had for defence. "Some are singing songs of cheer for Cersei's death, ironically chanting along to the Rains of Castamere. But no one has dared to even mention Dany's. They know who saved them from the White Walkers, they've always known."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," Fianna admitted to her cousin, furrowing her brows as she cast her eyes toward him. "I don't feel relief that she perished and stopped her inevitable retaliation for our abandonment. I don't particularly feel surprise, we were losing the battle before it began. All I feel is pure and absolute sadness. Daenerys wasn't a good Queen by any count, but she had one of the most tragic stories I had ever come to know. All she wanted was a family, and I had refused to give her that."

"You're allowed to feel grief," Jon argued, clearly mirroring some of her emotions. "And as you said to her, at least she died knowing that she had _someone_."

"I can't help but think of what would have happened if she had been raised alongside us," the brunette mused, picking at the torn skin that graced her palms. "Perhaps my grandfather would have taken her in out of love for Rhaella, and she could have been raised to be as close as Tiernan and I were. She wouldn't know death, nor have to fight to survive. She would be raised loved and alongside those that she loved, instead of the lost daughter of a disgraced family."

"Bran said 'everything happens for a reason'," Jon gruffly responded. "I don't believe in all that, I know I should - given that I was actually resurrected. But I can't bring myself to. The war is seemingly over, and I feel as if I have played no part in it. I was brought back for no reason."

"Perhaps your purpose is yet to come."

"Perhaps," he smiled at her comment, although it was masked by the tinge of sorrow that he still emanated. Jon could never have hoped to have a relationship with Daenerys, even if he had love for her before finding out his heritage. It didn't matter that it was common among Targaryens to marry close family members, it wasn't what Jon was raised in believing. Not only that, but he had come to realise that their infatuation with each other was only fleeting. Jon had been attracted to Daenerys' power, the stories of her freeing the slaves overseas and her agreeing to fight for the North had him falling for her pure heart. Just as Daenerys had fallen for his good nature and bravery. But just like their outward appearances, Jon was as inwardly ice as she was inwardly fire. Her lust for power and unforgiving nature would never have worked with his hatred of formality and kindness.

Jon wanted a simple life above the wall with people he loved, who loved him without a title. Daenerys wanted the Seven Kingdoms in the palm of her hand, she wanted all the titles the country had to offer. Irregardless, their opposing personalities didn't stop him from mourning her passing. He had loved her, however short of a time they had together.

"What will you do now?" Fianna dared to ask, a question that everyone had been avoiding since the battle finished. "Will you take the throne?"

"I don't know how many times I have to say 'I don't want it' before people start to realise," Jon chuckled darkly, shaking his head in rebuttal. "What about you? You've been a Queen longer than anyone else in the entire Seven Kingdoms. You're more than qualified."

"I came to war with a chip on my shoulder wanting to prove myself," she began, sighing wistfully as she looked off towards the camp fire in the distance. "I've done that, and found love along the way. My priorities have changed drastically since then. If I could give up my sword and my title to take Robb and the twins to the middle of nowhere and live on a small farm until the end of our days, I would. But I signed up for this life, all I can do now is make the North a better Kingdom for my children to grow up in."

* * *

 _Robb_

Fianna had made an effort, he didn't fail to notice. The crown he had seen on top of her head less than a handful of times rested on her brown curls as if she were made to wear it, and mayhaps she was. They had rested at Riverrun for a week, the time it had taken his brothers and sister to travel from Winterfell and reconvene with them on the journey back to King's Landing. Robb had sent over half of his vanguard home, only keeping a small amount for his own protection as was customary.

The Dragon Pit was essentially a pile of ruins, and a rather strange place to hold a meeting that would decide the fate of the Seven Kingdoms. He wondered if Tyrion had chosen it for the reminder of the Targaryen's fall it brought, something very fitting for the current moment. The most noble of Westerosi Lords sat patiently, everyone from the North to Dorne. Even little Robyn Arryn, who was not so little any longer.

"You look lovely, Your Grace," the Blackfish greeted Fianna, as she and her husband stood to meet Robb's uncle and great-uncle. He placed a kiss of greeting to the back of her hand, before turning to Robb with his signature playful look. "You, not so much."

"Heavy is the crown, as they say," Robb playfully replied, quirking his eyebrows as his great-uncle departed towards the next free chair. Edmure revealed himself behind the Lord of the Twins, chest puffed with confidence.

"Nephew," he nodded respectfully towards the couple, "might I take the time to invite you both to my wedding. It's in three moons time, to a noble lady I met on our travels here. She has just accepted my proposal, thank the Gods."

"With due respect, Uncle," Robb began, stifling a chuckle as Fianna's body shook with laughter from beside him. "Your last wedding wasn't much of a party, I regret to have to reject your invitation."

"Was he serious?" Fianna burst the second he walked out of hearing distance, eyes lit up with mirth as she leaned into her husband's side. "I wouldn't be surprised if the girl's name is 'Waldina'."

"I'd hazard a guess that he will offer himself for the Iron Throne later," Robb winked teasingly, keeping his voice low so only they could hear while she continued to giggle at the ridicule of it all. Another relative had decided to approach the Stark clan at that moment, although he completely bypassed the King and Queen to make a beeline for the next red-head, Sansa.

"Dear cousin," Robyn Arryn beamed as he greeted the Lady, nodding enthusiastically when she looked up to acknowledge him. "You have grown even more beautiful with each passing day."

"Thank... you," Sansa slowly replied, eyeing up the Lord of the Vale as he nervously jittered in her presence.

"I would just like to say, that my dear mother - may the Gods rest her soul, the offer she had presented to you is still on the table. I would gladly marry you and make you the Lady of the Eyrie."

"That's..." she paused, swallowing down the rising bile in her throat and casting a dark glare to Robb as he bellowed a laugh. "That's very kind-"

"She's not interested, tit-sucker," Arya cut in, not impressed by the quivering boy in front of her. He may have grown to the height of a man, but she could sense the cowardice from miles off from this one. Embarrassed, Robyn hung his head and returned to his seat, cheeks as red as his cousins hair.

" _Arya_!" Sansa gasped with disapproval, although one glance between the sisters was all it took for the duo to dissolve into laughter. Robb's lips quirked at the sight, it truly was a far cry from the arguing they constantly found themselves in many years ago. But they were girls then, and women now. The hilarity between the Starks dissipated as the final party arrived, bringing with them an air of loss. Missandei's glare instantly left them ashamed, as they were reminded this was not a dinner nor party. They were here to discuss the aftermath of Daenerys' death.

Tyrion was the final person to approach the nobility of Westeros, looking entirely drained and a shadow of himself. Robb felt an ebb of pity for the imp - losing a Queen was one thing, but to lose one's entire family on the same day was quite another.

"We're all gathered here because the Seven Kingdoms is at risk - say what you will about the monarch, but we are all in very real danger if we are not united under the rule of a single person, a single council," Varys began, voice sounding as controlled as ever and a far cry from Tyrion. "If we are to honour tradition and follow bloodlines-"

Varys pointedly met Jon's burning gaze, receiving a firm shake of his head as a result. The secret of his lineage was not something he wanted out into the world, and although the Spider's lips burned and begged to release the most scandalous information that had ever reached his ears - this was one secret he was going to have to keep to himself. At this rate, it almost seemed a certainty that Jon would sooner jump into the water and swim to the Free Cities than sit on that throne of swords.

"Then..." he paused, mentally making the decision before speaking again, "then we are fresh out of Targaryens. The bloodline has died out, much like the rest of Old Valyria."

Jon and Fianna stiffened at his words, fully aware that they were the only two people in existence with a fair amount of Valyrian blood coursing through their veins. Those that had escaped the Doom Of Valyria had eventually intermingled with other nations enough for their bloodline to become non-existent. For as little lineage that Fianna and Jon possessed, it was more than anyone else in the world.

"If we are to follow another tradition and honour the late queen's named heir, there is one person that she chose to follow on with her possessions and armies," Tyrion added, casting a glance around to the curious eyes that were fixated on him. As Hand of the Queen, he was the only one aware of such a contract. Pausing for dramatic effect, the imp revelled in the conclusions everyone had come to on who the mysterious heir could be. Some thought Jon, some seemed to think of Fianna. But no one thought correctly.

"This person," Tyrion continued after a beat, "was someone that she trusted the most in the world. Someone that she believed to be one of the strongest she had met, that deserved all of the titles and riches Daenerys had accumulated. That person is Missandei of Naath."

The named woman's lips parted at the revelation, looking around wide-eyed and showing the most emotion Tyrion had seen from her since she had lost not only Daenerys, but her lover Grey Worm as well. The pleasant surprise of Daenerys' secret contract was enough to elicit a soft smile from the Summer girl, but it was quickly overridden by sadness. As kind as the gesture was, Missandei had detested the Seven Kingdoms as much as they had seemed to detest her. From the cool air, to the customs and mannerisms, it was the last place to exist she would ever consider becoming a ruler of.

"My Queen has left me with a reminder that she is as generous as I always knew her to be," Missandei stood up, catching the shocked eyes of everyone surrounding. "I was a mere slave girl, who she had taken and freed in the hopes of receiving loyalty and love. Not only was I loyal to my Queen and loved her so, but she was my closest friend. I begged of her to leave this country if the war was lost, to return to our true home and live a safer life, because that's what Westeros is. It's not our home, it's not mine. So with the seventeen remaining Unsullied soldiers and riches Daenerys has left me with, I plan to return to Naath. I will leave the fate of the Seven Kingdoms to you all, although in truth I feel very few of you actually deserve it."

With those parting words, and little interest to stay for the duration of the meeting, Missandei swiftly turned to leave, calling out in Valyrian for the remaining Unsullied warriors to follow behind her. For the first time since arriving, she would be leaving Westeros without the weight of loss on her chest. She would be leaving behind the Hell that had taken everything from her.

Perhaps the Summer woman was right to leave, Robb sighed as the thought came to mind, for the meeting showed no sign of ending any time soon. After a hilarious spectacle where Edmure had stood to pledge himself as Robb suspected he would, Sansa telling him to promptly sit down and Samwell making a ludicrous announcement to offer the commonfolk a chance for a vote, they were no closer to finding the next King or Queen.

"We need to make a decision soon," Varys grunted in annoyance, nodding towards Robb, "there's only one King here already, perhaps we should be looking towards those with experience. Robb Stark is a fair ruler, even if he has made some questionable decisions."

"I have no interest in the South," Robb proclaimed proudly. "My home is the North, my family is the North and regardless of the vote today, I will remain the King in the North."

"We can't expect the traitors to rule," Yara Greyjoy interjected in a sneer, "they left Queen Daenerys after swearing their allegiance in battle. Are there to be no consequences to that?"

"I knocked you out before, Yara," Fianna called back in a dark tone, "and I will do it again."

"Since Daenerys passed, this week has been the first in a long time that I have been able to think," Tyrion started, gathering all of their attention again as he began to pace closer towards the Stark line up. "Think about our bloody history, think about the mistakes we have made. What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags? Stories.

"There's nothing in the world more powerful than a good story, nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it. And who has a better story, than Sansa Stark," he concluded, a quirk of a smile on the corners of his lips as the redhead visibly froze. "The girl who was held captive as a child and learned how to survive. The girl who never needed a sword to be strong, the girl who was held by the most dangerous men Westeros had ever seen, and didn't need to kill them to beat them. One of the youngest among us, but with an intelligence that could outwit all of us combined. She has not let her story, as dark and bloody as it has been, drive her mad with bloodlust. She has taken every experience as a lesson, and knows exactly how to look after the common people - the backbone of our world. Who better to lead us out of war and into our future?"

Suddenly timid with all eyes now on her, Fianna nudged the girl next to her with a proud grin. Tyrion was right - not a single other person seated there was fit to rule. Sansa was the only one able for it, but her hatred of King's Landing and the memories it brought was the only thing keeping her back.

"I know you don't want it," Tyrion murmured the closer he got to her, eyes pleading for the Stark daughter to accept. "I know what memories this place holds for you. But can you honestly say that if it were offered to you, you wouldn't do the best you could to make this world a better place?"

Sansa's breathing had obviously quickened with the burden that was presented before her. It was all she ever wanted, to be the Queen. It was a dream that even blinded her to thinking Joffrey was a suitable match. How ironic it was, she internally remarked, that she should be offered the crown when she had finally reached a point in her life where she truly didn't want it. But it was obvious that whatever decision was made today, would have to be for the greater good of Westeros and not for personal preference. For if nothing else, Sansa would have loved to remain in the North forever.

But it wasn't her choice to make, and she knew in her heart that if she had been offered the throne - she would have made her father proud and served the realm well. With that thought in mind, she gave the imp the tiniest of nods - solidifying her fate for the rest of her life.

"All in agreement for Lady Sansa of House Stark to take the Iron Throne, say aye!"

An immediate 'aye' rang out from Jon, who looked equally relieved that the burden would not fall onto him and also that the duty was being passed to a worthy ruler. The chorus of agreements soon sounded, until eventually everyone had voted for the Stark daughter to become the next Queen, including her family - who had loudly cheered that single word with as much enthusiasm as possible.

"Wait," Sansa called out before Tyrion could continue, turning to Robb and Fianna with a fretted gaze. "As we've agreed that all future Kings and Queens are chosen by the lords and ladies, there are no promises that the next in line will be a Stark. Irregardless, we have fought for too long and suffered too many losses to ever bend the knee again - even if it is to me. The North will remain an independent kingdom, as it once was."

Robb, touched by her wisdom and love for their home, couldn't help but reach out and clutch onto her hand - eyes brimming with gratitude. Tyrion had been right, there was no one better for the Seven, now Six, Kingdoms than Sansa.

"All hail Sansa Stark, the Red Wolf and the Queen of the Six Kingdoms!" Tyrion shouted, eliciting a raucous response in the form of everyone jumping up to cheer for the woman - all except for Bran of course. Even Edmure had seemed delighted for his niece's rising, if not a little saddened by how closely she resembled Catelyn.

The war had finally come to an end, and a Phoenix had rose from the ashes to make sure it stayed that way.

* * *

 _Fianna_

With their final goodbyes in King's Landing coming to an end, Fianna had taken the moment of freedom she was granted with to roam the halls of the Red Keep's castle. It was intricately decorated and lavish, contrasting greatly with the throne itself. Once she had stumbled into the throne room, Fianna had become fixated with the seat of swords - even frightened by it. It's appearance was menacing, and there was little doubt as to why Sansa had ordered a new chair to be made in its place.

"I hear the Queen has appointed you Master of Whisperers," Fianna called out knowingly, learning the telltale signs of Bran's approach by now - or more, the squeak of his wooden wheels. "I thought you couldn't bear any titles now."

"It's a rather fitting title nonetheless, wouldn't you say?" Bran replied calmly, his stonily calm voice ever the same as she slowly turned to face her good-brother. Alongside him, Varys became the Master of Coin, more out of necessity than experience and Tyrion had been named her Hand in a surprising announcement. Sansa had begged for Arya to join her council too, but there was more chance of the sky imploding than that.

"You told me that everything happens for a reason," Fianna demanded suddenly, quirking a knowing brow at his stoic expression. "What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what the words say, that everything happens as a precursor for a later event," he explained. "You haven't realised how much you impact the story of our world, but your smallest actions have left the most profound of impacts. If it weren't for your actions in the Battle of King's Landing, thousands of people would have subsequently died."

"What do you mean?" Fianna reeled in confusion. "We _lost_ the battle."

"The future isn't set in stone. I have seen things destined to happen, suddenly not occur because of another's actions. You lost the war because you were never meant to win it, and you spared that boy with the scar that ran from his mouth to his ear for a reason."

"What does that child have to do with anything?" She rolled her eyes, growing frustrated with her perpetual cryptic comments.

"You took his sword but you didn't steal his drive, he did tell you his strengths lay with a bow and arrow," Bran responded knowingly, as if it should have clicked in her head by now. "That boy was overlooked by everyone who had met him, but he was the one to shoot the arrow that killed the Dragon Queen. That single shot stopped a reign of terror that rivalled the Mad King's - the only difference being that Aerys didn't possess a dragon."

"I'm growing tired of your ambiguity, Bran," Fianna swallowed thickly, nostrils flared as she stormed toward the crippled boy with a fiery gaze. "Tell me what it is you mean, or I will hear no more of it."

"If you hadn't have taken his sword, he would have tried to fight against the Dothraki and be subsequently killed for it. But you did, and he went to fetch the weapon he knew best. All he wanted to do was his protect his family from what he believed was a tyrant, so he stopped the woman that was perched on a dragon over the crowd of innocents. If he hadn't, Daenerys would have simply left King's Landing.

"But nevertheless, she would have been granted the throne and become Queen of the Six Kingdoms. But much like the North, Westeros didn't forget those that were lost, and in doing so began to protest her reign and blame her for their losses. Varys is the first to die, having betrayed her and telling everyone the name of the true heir. Out of guilt, Jon agrees to settle into a wholly unhappy marriage with her for her own sake.

"But just because they are married, it does not mean they are safe. Food shortages and crime rise until the Six Kingdoms are in discourse, terrified of their Queen and leaving her with what she feels is no choice but to use fear against them. She burns those that don't pledge fealty to her, which stretches to the hundreds. Now as Mad of a ruler as her father, the Dragon Queen becomes known as Daenerys the Mad, and Daenerys the Cruel. Fianna, just because she perished wanting to stop a tyrant from ruling, does not mean she would not have become one herself."

Bran chose to emit most of his knowledge - particularly the fact that Daenerys' eventual invasion of the North and a failed assassination attempt by her niece leads to Fianna's subsequent execution, leaving her family infuriated enough to enter into another war. But he had already tainted her kind enough for one day, and she simply did not need to feel even worse than she clearly already did.

Fianna decided not to answer Bran, truly because she had nothing to say and the vomit that rose through her throats threatened to spew at any minute. The guilt of knowing she had caused her aunt's death was like no other, but the shock that Daenerys had been passing by them on the road to madness left her shaken to her core.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Daenerys had passed when she did, leaving them with the memory of her saving them from the White Walkers and deciding against killing the innocent. How many signs had Daenerys given that she simply didn't notice?

Leaving the throne room for what would be the final time, Fianna ran straight for the nearest derelict hallway and emptied the contents of her stomach.

* * *

 _ **The next chapter is the FINAL ONE and then an epilogue will follow, so it'll obviously be very Fianna and Robb-centric. I just wanted to tie up loose ends in this chapter before I can settle the book for good, I hope everyone likes the ending I have changed for the show but I understand if you don't.**_

 _ **My decision to reveal that Daenerys would eventually go mad is the best thing I believe I could have done for her, mainly because I truly believe that it will be her ending in ASOIAF but the show simply hadn't built that up enough to be plausible. I myself could have done it, but that would be stretching this book out at least another twenty chapters, and in doing so this book wouldn't be about Fianna and Robb it would be about Daenerys.**_

 _ **And as for Sansa, come ON there is ONLY ONE QUEEN THAT DESERVES THE THRONE AND THAT'S MY GIRL.**_

 _ **I'm not going to be answering the reviews this week, mainly because i honestly don't want to read them again to have to answer them. I 100% can take negative criticism but I didn't expect that much of a backlash for the last chapter that it honestly saddens me to know people aren't enjoying the changes I've made. I'm just going to explain it all now instead of repeating myself to everyone.**_

 _ **This isn't a season 8 "fix it" fic, this is me personally not wanting to associate MY writing with the messy writing that I think season 8 is. And furthermore, I was always going to do an alternative ending in this book because no matter what the show did I think it would have been nice to write a different ending for people to read now that the series is done forever. Many didn't like it, and that's absolutely fine. If you didn't like the last chapter I suspect you won't like this one but to be honest I stand by my writing. Cersei Lannister deserved to die in a way that honoured her prophecy - the Valonqar prophecy said that she would die at the hands of her brother, whilst pregnant with her fourth child. Anyone that thinks Jaime is OOC for killing her, do you genuinely think that eight seasons of building up his character only for him to run back to his sister and leave Brienne wasn't OOC? You're entitled to your own opinion, but I have worked my ass off on this book. I work 12 hour days and I still find the time to write chapters that are 7000+ words. So if my decision to kill Cersei and Jaime that way is the one that makes you not want to read this any more, then that's your decision to make.**_


	68. (LXVII) It's Only Beginning

_**SONG**_ **:** _Outro by M83_

 _Fianna_

Sansa's coronation ceremony had been truly spectacular, even if Robb had clasped Fianna's hand as tightly as possible for the duration of it. In his eyes, the redhead was still the same little girl who threw tantrums every time Arya even glanced at her a certain way. Now, she was standing at the top of the Great Hall and poised to take a seat on a throne that was never made for her bloodline, as the most beautiful and deserving Queen Westeros had ever seen.

True to her personality, Sansa had tailored the coronation to be perfect down to the most minute of details. The stained glass windows that littered the walls that once bore the sigil of a lion, were now shaped in the unmistakeable form of a direwolf's head. The Queen was proud of her lineage, and that was unlikely to change after permanently relocating to the South once again. They had overextended their stay for several days to see her befitted with a crown and to give Jon and Arya a proper goodbye, but even then they were antsy to return North and to their children.

Arya's idea to travel West had initially seemed ludicrous to Robb, but after a gentle talking down and a promise to return within five years, the youngest Stark sister managed to convince her stubborn-headed brother that it was the best decision she could have made for herself. Bran had led them all to the conclusion that every single step taken in their life thus far had been a precursor to where they had landed, and Arya was simply too well-trained and equipped to spend her days dutifully standing beside her family. Sansa had justly offered her the chance to join her Queensguard and be the Knight she had always longed to become, but the brunette had simply shrugged and said "perhaps when I've gotten old, and it's more of a fair fight."

Jon notion had seemed somewhat less ridiculous, as he had announced the eve before of his intentions to join the Free Folk and live as a free man, further North than they could ever imagine. Robb and Fianna could guess why he would consider such a venture after he admitted some of his happiest days were above the wall - where titles nor lands didn't matter. How truly ironic it was, Jon had joined the Night's Watch to free himself from the title of 'bastard', and now he was leaving to live above what remained of the wall to free himself from the title of 'Heir to the Iron Throne'. Although he didn't intend on leaving without assuring his brother, sister and cousin would promise to visit and trial the ways of the Free Folk. Some day.

The common folk of King's Landing had only begun to warm to their new Queen, although Fianna suspected they mainly prayed that it would be the last coronation for at least a short while. Many were too busy grieving to even attempt to line the streets so the people could see their new leader for the first time.

Patiently, the remaining Starks had gathered in the garden to wait for their red-haired sister to join them for the final goodbye. As Jon and Arya saw little point in returning to Winterfell, only to leave again for their desired destinations. Before, Fianna would have felt like an outsider among them. Her family line may have died with Tiernan, but she still had found a home with the Stark clan.

"What happened to Drogon?" Jon inquired suddenly, directing his question towards his wheelchair-bound brother.

"The dragon flew East after the battle ended, carrying Daenerys in his claw before laying her to rest at the place she was born," Bran replied ever so solemnly, leaving the others to digest his revelation.

"Dragonstone?" Fianna voiced with a quizzical tone.

"No, a desert in Vaes Dothrak," he answered, surprisingly continuing on with an explanation before anyone had to question further. "Daenerys may have been born at Dragonstone, but she was reborn alongside her dragons at the funeral pyre of her late husband. Nothing remains there now but charred dirt, but I suppose the creature found it a suitable place to lay her to rest."

Fianna supposed there was no where else she could have personally chosen to bury the fallen Queen. Dragonstone may have been her birthright, but it had never been a home to Daenerys. Meereen was simply too far to ponder about, and had only been a stepping stone in her journey towards the Iron Throne. Perhaps if Drogon had not taken her, Fianna would have buried the Dragon Queen alongside the burial grounds of her own family. For that is exactly what the Targaryen was to her, despite everything - family.

"I am sorry for keeping you all waiting, many Lords wanted to meet with me personally," Sansa's voice interrupted the strange atmosphere, appearing alongside her own personal guards before gliding towards them as if she were walking on water. Robb marvelled at the sight - she had never been so truly comfortable with herself, nor had she ever looked as happy and content. Sansa was the Queen she had always wanted to be, and he couldn't have been prouder.

"Looking for your hand in marriage, I'd guess," Arya snorted as the taller sister joined her side.

"If only I had an assassin sister who would stay by my side and tell them off," Sansa's lips quirked as she tentatively fiddled with the position of her direwolf crown, her perfect image falling as she found she was able to relax in front of her family.

"I'll find you someone out West who won't mind that you get gaseous after too many sips of milk."

As if Fianna's mere presence was enough of a reminder of the man she had found who was already perfect enough for her, Sansa glanced towards the Northern Queen before looking down and swallowing harshly. The memory of Tiernan Bua wouldn't dull any time in the near future, that was for certain.

"That reminds me," she suddenly lifted the intricate scroll tucked into her hand, offering it toward Fianna, "I thought you would like to have this."

Fianna quirked a brow as she took the letter, her heart falling slightly in her chest as she noticed the sigil that kept it sealed. The wolfhound's paw print that she had grown up drawing and sewing.

"It's the original document of your betrothal," Sansa explained as all eyes were suddenly transfixed on the newly emotional brunette. "I found out while you both travelled South, I think it may be of some interest to you.

"It states that in the event of your marriage, the ownership of Baelfort will fall to your second born child - who will bear the Bua name instead of Stark to protect your lineage."

"T-... thank you," Fianna managed after clearing her throat, meeting Robb's knowingly concerned eye before dropping her arms by her sides. "I always wondered if father had intended for Baelfort to fall under Stark rule, we would never have known otherwise."

"Given that this is our last goodbye for some time, I'll go first," Robb diverted attention from her, aware that she was becoming uncomfortable with the pointed stares. "I would rather have Rickon present, but he'll hear all about it when we return.

"I'm the eldest of us all, and even before father encouraged me to take care of you as the future Lord of Winterfell, all I ever wanted was to protect my family. When he died and I knew that Sansa and Arya were being held in King's Landing, I would have torn every building down from Wintertown to the Red Keep to save you both from that inbred little prick. But I was a King, and I had to think of my duty as well as my sisters. Then Rickon and Bran were chased from our home, and I had never felt like such a failure. I was the man of our household, out fighting battles that didn't make a difference when my family were still on opposite corners of the world.

"But the lone wolf died, and the pack survived. I love you all, despite our differences. Even you Bran, although I'm not so sure you are even _Bran_ any more. I hope that a day comes where we're all together like this again, and that things don't go as badly as they did the last time we seperated."

"Well the last time we separated you were better looking than I was," Jon joked, clapping his brother on the back and coughing to mask the rising emotion in his voice. Not a single Stark member failed to be touched by his words - even Bran, who had initially barely blinked upon meeting them once agin.

"I promised to come back," Arya coughed, eyes beginning to spill over with tears that her brother never thought he'd see. "If I can kill the Night King I can survive a boat trip."

"Well Westeros has had five rulers in the last decade and all perished, so who knows what my chances are," Sansa sniffled, using her height to drag an unwilling Arya into her side for an embrace. "But there's only so much the Gods can put me through, I think they've tried everything once by now."

"We've all led such different journeys," Jon added, the goodbyes turning into speeches by each of the siblings, "but it was all worth it in the end to see my siblings again, alive and happy. It's a rather funny term that, _siblings_. All I ever wanted was to be your brother."

"You always were," Robb cleared his throat, swallowing a growing lump and an excited smirk as he slipped a letter of his own from inside his cloak. "But if you'd like it in writing..."

"What is this?" Jon's brows furrowed as he gently took the scroll between his charred and callused fingers.

"You always hated the name _Snow_ , and I'm aware that _Aegon Targaryen_ doesn't feel quite right to you either. It's a certificate of legitimisation, if you choose to accept it, signed by the King in the North. It's something I should have done a long time ago, but I was a little too preoccupied to start calling you Jon Stark."

Jon's hands shook ever so slightly as he read over it several times to make sure he wasn't being fooled, but it there as plain as day - Robb had used his power to give his brother what he always wanted, the Stark name.

Fianna had stayed to the side while a series of embraces had broke out, watching dutifully with a warm smile and finding tears of her own springing. She tried desperately to blink them away - this wasn't the last time she would see them; she was certain.

"Don't start another war until I get back," Arya's voice suddenly brought her out of a daze, finding that the smaller woman had marched up to her seemingly out of nowhere.

"I wouldn't dream of fighting without my best soldier," Fianna beamed, unable to help herself as she dragged the brunette forward into a bone-crushing hug. "Even though I could still beat you one-on-one."

"With that leg?" Arya huffed a laugh against Fianna's dress, leaning back in her arms so they could meet eyes once again. It was no secret they were the closest out of all of her husband's brothers and sisters - Arya and Fianna had found each other at a low point alongside Tywin Lannister, teetered back together until they found their way to Robb and managed to stay side by side during some of the most pivotal moments of their lives to date. Regardless of Fianna's marriage, Arya and the Northern Queen were sisters in their own right. But there was little need for tears to be shed that day - Arya would come home, Fianna knew it well.

"Are you ready to go home?" Robb's voice interrupted the hug the two were enveloped in, breaking them apart reluctantly and casting their eyes downward so the emotion on their faces wasn't to be seen.

"Yes."

* * *

"Don't be stubborn, Aifric," Fianna lightly scolded, knowing that the girl's cool reaction to their arrival home was fair given how upset she had been at their departure. But the parents hadn't lied when they said it would be their final trip, the Seven Kingdoms were at peace for the first time in years under two separate and just rulers. It would be years before the damage from the battles could be fully reversed, but there were no two better leaders for the task than Robb and Sansa.

Eddie, of course, didn't care to remain blasé about his parents homecoming and melted into their arms as soon as they were within distance. Perhaps Aifric was more Bua in her mannerisms than Stark, which would suit her future reign as Lady of Baelfort just nicely.

"Haven't you missed us, little lady?" Robb called out to her, patting the top of Eddie's head once before slowly approaching his daughter. Aifric didn't reply, instead choosing to stare at the snowy ground beneath her and swallow thickly. Many would see it as a temper tantrum, but Robb had spent every moment he could since returning to his family getting to know the twins. Aifric was trying her damnedest not to cry at that moment, and thought if she were to hug her father it would unleash the flurry of tears she was holding back.

Unable to hold back any longer once he crouched before her, Aifric choked on a sob and threw her small body forward onto her father. Immediately, Robb wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to his chest and returning to his wife and son - who were both teary-eyed and emotional themselves.

"We're not leaving again, sweet girl," Fianna promised into the crook of her ear, resting her head against the side of Aifric's reddened hair.

"You promise?" She voiced, throat thick with sobs that left her raspy-toned and heart-breaking.

"I promise," Fianna vowed once more, lifting Eddie up into her arms so they could enjoy the moment together as a family. It was hard to tell how long they remained in that position - any bystanders who requested Robb's presence to greet with the Northern lords were shut down quickly with a wave of a hand. They had all the time in the world to treat with the High Lords of the North, but moments with family were always fleeting.

When the time came that the twins grew antsy to jet off, Robb and Fianna set the children down where they promptly were met with a waiting Grey Wind. The large direwolf nearly knocked his master over in his haste for attention, receiving a hug in return from Robb himself. Rickon had been waiting for their moment to break too it appeared, standing patiently nearby as he suddenly appeared to give Fianna a welcoming hug.

"So a Stark in King's Landing and a Stark in Winterfell, we'll be taking over the world soon," he bantered, returning Robb's hug when it was extended to him.

"Thank god for Sansa, maybe I'll be able to rest easy tonight for the first time in eight years," Robb sighed with exasperation, running his hand over his curls.

"Knowing our luck, the Free Cities will invade next," Fianna rolled her eyes, eliciting a laugh from her two companions. "What about you, Rickon? You're almost a man grown now, surely you've thought about what route you would like to take."

"I have," the curly-haired teenager shrugged, "I was always too young to fight alongside you. And now the war is over, I still want to be the Knight I ached to be since I was a boy. I'm aware that the practice is rather Southern in nature, but with your permission, I'd like to set up our own version of a Kingsguard. Your reign has been short but horrifically bloody, I'd like to ensure that our days continue to be peaceful now that the North is a truly independent kingdom. Although I'll need a little more help with my training."

"There's no one I would trust more at my side," Robb beamed, giving his younger sibling a familial clap on the shoulder as they began to retreat indoors. There would be much work to do in the coming weeks - with food reserves at an all time low and Winterfell and Last Heart in ruins. Trade deals would need to be set up with Dorne if they hoped for food, which would be a more difficult feat now that the two kingdoms were not under the same rule. But although Ned Stark wasn't aware of it at the time, he had been raising Robb to be a King all his life.

* * *

 _Bran_

For the first time in days, Bran decided to check in on the situation above the wall. Most of his abilities as of late had involved keeping a watchful eye on Drogon as the magnificent dragon mindlessly sailed overseas. Much like a boat without a captain, the red-winged beast was struggling to find his direction without a rider.

It would be some years until Drogon would allow another to climb aboard his back and sail the skies again, for dragons simply lived too long to ever be tied down to one rider. When the next rider would arise and steer the creature to their will, it would be when Westeros needed it most - as was their purpose. Everyone alive in their world had one - a true higher calling, that was as impactful for one person killing another as it was someone simply closing a door. They were all apart of a game orchestrated by a higher power that even Bran knew little of.

That power, be it man or one of many Gods, was only drawing its current act to conclusion. But it wasn't the end of the play.

Bran could have told the others that their victory hadn't been a complete triumph after all, but that would disrupt the years of rebuilding that Westeros sorely needed. Nevertheless, the great threat would take years to rebuild enough to even begin their march South. Much like how Daenerys Targaryen returning to Westeros allowed for the Army of the Dead to be defeated, it would take Drogon's return to find his next rider for the living to be able to stand a chance.

Sure enough, the birds he manipulated flew high into the sky, farther North than anyone could have even dreamed of exploring, let alone inhabiting. Their wings crusted with developing ice as the bitter winds flew against them in protest, the air growing harsher the closer the birds grew to the children.

As expected, they were as they had been in the days before - several Children of the Night playing around a lake as if they were in the least bit mundane. Many looked alike, a consequence of being Craster's inbred offspring, and all connected by their icy skin and vibrantly blue eyes. Their chests were marred with a long line, an indication of the exact position the Night King had plunged a dagger of dragonglass into their infantile chests to turn them into more than just White Walkers - but direct heirs, that could continue on in the event of his demise.

Bran Stark had no choice but to keep his lips sealed, as they would be for a long time until Westeros was ready once again for another Great War. For there would never be a time in history that either side would win completely - such was the song of 'ice and fire'. Perfectly balanced, with one never overcoming the other.

* * *

 _Fianna_

If one had told Fianna Bua nearly a decade before that she would ever spend a day in her life in Winterfell, happily married and peacefully watching her children beneath play blissfully - she would have laughed and derived a rather rude comment from the gut of her throat. But now, standing on top of a balcony and looking down as Aifric and Eddie squabbled over who exactly had won their previous duel, she couldn't have pictured a life where she would be the least bit happier.

Fianna had heard the rumours - that she was 'kissed by the God of Death', and for a time believed them to be true. Many who she had come to love had died in the brutal years predating that moment. The world was less than kind to her at any one point, robbing her of her family and the love of her life. But the Gods has returned Robb to her, and given her a new family to pour her affections into. If handing over her sword meant that she could rest easily in Robb's arms at night, knowing their children were safe in their beds, it was a willing sacrifice.

There were days where an itch arose - an inner voice pleading for her to continue on as a warrior, to save people from harm and leave a bloody trail in her midst. More than anything, hearing of Daenerys' eventual downturn scared her into quietening that voice once and for all. She knew all too well the lure of power and the desire to unleash one's inner fury, some had even speculated she herself would turn into a 'Mad Queen'. But Daenerys had perished choosing to protect innocent lives over chasing her lifelong dream, an ending she was worthy of while in the midst of her previously fair and just rule.

If Fianna had to live without her father, Tiernan, Daenerys and the countless Northern lives that fought tirelessly on her behalf - it was the least she could do to live _for_ them, and ensure the story of their lives didn't fail to be passed on to the later generation.

"Eddie!" Robb shouted suddenly, startling his wife as she hadn't realised he was next to her. "Do be gentle, she's five minutes younger than you!"

"Well if it isn't the Lord of Winterfell," Fianna beamed in greeting, turning to her husband and breathing a sigh of content as he placed his hands on her waist, uncaring that all of the castle's inhabitants could see them both as she placed a kiss on his lips.

"It's certainly a welcome greeting to what you have previously called me," Robb chuckled, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.

"I disagree," she chuckled inwardly, slipping her hands to rest on his chest. "I called you the Young Wolf once or twice after some time between our sheets."

"Alright, alright," he laughed heartily, tipping his head back to feign exasperation at her words. "You'll have plenty of time to learn how to be a silent wife, now that we are at peace."

"And you'll have plenty of time to enjoy your head attached to your shoulders, before I remove it," she smirked sarcastically. As they relished in the comfort of one another for a few moments longer before their duties would recall them, Fianna's grin gradually began to fade until the thin line adorning her lips was something recognisable to Robb.

"What's wrong? What is it?" he demanded, cupping her cheek with one hand to drag her head upward to meet his eyes.

"It just..." she trailed off, casting a quick glance back at the bustling courtyard beneath them. "It feels as if something is ending."

"Something is ending," he agreed, catching her off-guard. "The war. And now that it's over, our lives are finally beginning. I'm not sure about you, but I can't wait until the only thing we fight for is which side of the bed we get to sleep on."

"Don't be preposterous," Fianna scoffed, "the right side is obviously yours, the door to our chambers gives an icy cold draft."

The moment fell silent again, the couple relishing in the tranquility of the snow falling and their children's childlike laughter sounding out.

"I hope we don't have twins again," the Northern Queen spoke suddenly, "I love them truly but they are a handful at the best of times. I'd like our next child to actually look like me, too. The Bua genetics are fading as much as Ser Davos' hairline."

For a moment, Robb took no heed to her comment, until an earlier conversation about the potential of Fianna's ability to bear another child flooded his mind. Leaning back in their embrace to look at her expression for any sign of excitement, his heart nearly fell through his chest once he saw that she was grinning from ear to ear, with eyes as bright as the Summer sky.

"Are you...?" he cut himself off, too fearful to ask and receive a negative response.

"I am," she nodded enthusiastically. "I wanted to be sure before I told you, but it's true. I'm not barren after all."

"Fianna-" he spoke breathlessly, wrapping his arms around her and swiftly lifting her from her feet. She had made him the happiest man in the North at that moment, standing in a spot he could always remember his father being. It felt as if Ned Stark was there at that moment too, alongside his mother, watching gleefully at the work they had did to restore their home.

Robb could see it - years from now, standing there once more with his youthful appearance beginning to fade as he watched out over the balcony at his children beneath. They would have a large family as he did, that much was sure. Although he imagined Fianna would take some coercion to agree to bearing at least five children.

His hand slid gently over her non-protruding belly, satisfied that this time he would actually be present for the full duration of her pregnancy to support his Queen throughout. It was true to say that the Young Wolf and the She Wolf had swapped Longswords for a life of chasing babes and paperwork, but it was a sheer reminder if anything that no matter what situation they found themselves in - Robb and Fianna Stark could work it out together. Perhaps Ned and Cillian had an inkling when they signed their names on the betrothal agreement about what their children would grow to become, maybe they would have married irregardless of Theon discovering the contract. Nevertheless, they had found a home in one another.

The 'Young Wolf' and the 'She Wolf', they had called them. But to many - they were now simply 'King and Queen', or 'Mother and Father'.

* * *

 _ **This seriously doesn't feel like the last chapter. It can't be. Like? I spent nearly two years on this book and it's over I'm completely in denial.**_

 _ **I'll do a proper author's note after the epilogue, which will be posted soon.**_

 _ **But just to clarify, is everyone still interested in reading the mini-sequel? I couldn't give much away before because i didn't want to spoil this book, but it will be set when Aifric and Eddie are 16. Fianna and Robb are very much alive and will feature in it alongside their other children**_? _ **, and Jon and the White Walker children will be a main focal point.**_

 _ **If anyone still wants to read it, do let me know!**_

 _ **Thank you so much for reading this far, I'm saving my emotions for the epilogue. I really hope everyone likes the ending I have given them. I know that it's technically a happy ending which isn't very GOT-like, but four main characters just died in the last few chapters so what can I do! Also, if anyone deserves a happy ending it's my babies Robb and Fianna x**_

 _ **sasori231 - thanks so much!**_

 _ **purple pygmy puff16 - I thought the same so I can't understand why people are hell bent on defending Cersei now? I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! Thanks for always being so supportive and kind!**_

 _ **FigurativelyDying - I'm glad someone is on the same page! Bran as King made no sense given the fact he said before he can't hold titles because he's not really a man, and Sansa deserves it the most out of any of them to be honest!**_

 _ **Crystal Wolf Guardain967 - I'm getting a bit emotional now! Thanks so much for consistently supporting me and always giving me your thoughts on each chapter, it really kept me going when I was ready to give the book up! x**_

 _ **SabrinaInWonderland001 - Honestly thank you for telling me you support the changes, I really did think that everyone hated it! And I can't believe you think it's one of the best GOT fics, that meant the absolute WORLD to me. I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and the epilogue coming up! x**_

 _ **Guest - You're entitled to your own opinion about Daenerys' death in this book but to be honest I think it's one of the best ways she could have gone. There was never going to be a death scene worthy of a character like Daenerys, she's one of the best ever written. Her goal for the past 8 seasons has been to protect innocent civilians, and I enjoy the quiet irony in the fact an innocent civilian was the one to kill her. And as you said, every single one of them lead to Dany's demise - including Fianna and Jon. It also wouldn't have made sense if I wrote a scene with Drogon given that it was DAENERYS point of view, how am I supposed to write him reacting and doing all these things? From a dragon's view? It's a little bit open to interpretation how Drogon acted after she died. I do hope you like the final chapter, although I'm sure you'll find faults in that too ahaha. Have a nice day.**_


End file.
